


To Shatter a Mesiah you need but a word

by Shadows_under_the_Cross



Series: Martyrs don’t live fairy-tale (They live legends and tragedies) [1]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Aithusa is healthy, Angst, Arthur Finds Out About Merlin’s Magic (Merlin), Arthur is misguided, BAMF Merlin (Merlin), Dark Merlin (Merlin), Gen, Good Mordred (Merlin), Hurt Merlin (Merlin), Magic Revealed, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Season/Series 04, Powerful Merlin (Merlin), Torture, Warning - contains pictures, and you will only understand this tag if you read the entire thing, even imaginary things deserve a personality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-28
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:54:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 20
Words: 27,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23897131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadows_under_the_Cross/pseuds/Shadows_under_the_Cross
Summary: Arthur finds out about Merlin's magic and he doesn't take it well.He is angry but from innability to blame his best friend, he pins down all the fault to magic, hating it even more than ever.He sends Merlin to Sarrum to "accordingly punish the monster that took over his loyal servant", because he doesn't have the heart to do it himself. The same Sarrum, who is currently imprisonning one High Priestess and one white dragon.
Relationships: Aithusa & Morgana (Merlin), Daegal & Mordred (Merlin), Freya/Merlin (Merlin), Gwaine & Merlin (Merlin), Gwaine & Mordred (Merlin), Gwen/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Merlin & Mordred (Merlin), Merlin & Morgana (Merlin)
Series: Martyrs don’t live fairy-tale (They live legends and tragedies) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1809850
Comments: 134
Kudos: 299





	1. Of Misplaced Strawberries

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfiction ever.  
> Also it is the first story longer than 1000 words I have written since I was seven. Excuse me if there is any terrible cliché.  
> English is not my native language, Czech is.  
> I not even near the time people write A-levels in England (that is if my information about what A-levels are is correct).  
> So, Whoever reads this, don´t try to "long-distance" kill me.  
> It would be very much appriciated.
> 
> Also, I don't own (original) Merlin, in case it isn't obvious.  
> If you want to know who does, use uncle Google.

It was an anniversary of Freya’s death. Merlin was kneeling by the bank of the lake, tips of his fingers dipped in the water. The surface was calm on this day. It was always calm. Never touched by the time, never rippled by swimming fish or bird calming its thirst. Never broken by his love’s hand, not since _that_ day. The day he got Excalibur from the blue lake’s depths. Just a sword and a memory of girl long dead.

* * *

_There are lots of days with capital D in Camelot. You get used to it._

_Miracles don’t happen to Merlin. He is the only selfless miracle worker who dares to step in redcaped man’s lands, after all._

* * *

The great warlock was staring off to the distance, talking to the past. It’s her Day after all, isn’t it?

“I miss you, Freya. You have no idea how much… Well how could you, when you are de-"

Merlin sighed. _Don’t say that word_ , he spoke to himself.

"Camelot is as beautiful as ever. Hard to imagine we were invaded just two months ago. By Mograna. Who else. I am starting to believe… To _hope_ we finally got rid of her hatred. I am tires of hurting her again and again. If only her pain and her madness weren’t my fault. If I only had helped her when she was scared, if I hadn’t betrayed her trust with hemlock…”

Merlin paused for a moment. His vision got blurry for yet another lost friend. _Will, Lancelot, Morgana… who will be next?_

“But that is not the worst. Arthur and Gwen are planning marriage again. Hopefully, they actually finish it this time. After the not-Lancelot fiasco, they exchanged few explanations and are happy together once again. Not that they don’t deserve it. But every time I look at them, I see you. I see us. And what we could have had together. If I was faster, if we m-made it out in time, if you hav... haven’t d-d-died." _...If you haven’t died. So much for reminiscing only good memories._

He was crying when these words gotten through. It was the one time when let himself to. He was in the middle of the forests, nobody around to hear him, nobody around to say _“Hey, it’s okay to cry.”_ Luckily, there wasn’t anybody to say _“Don’t be such a girl and muck out my stables.”_ either _._

But she wasn’t here either. _His beautiful and kind Freya._

* * *

_It may have been years since her death, but it still hurt. It hurt like stab in the shoulder, which killed her. It hurt like a hundred of thorns from the rose he gave her. Today, it hurt like missing heart. He had given it to her too._

* * *

“I hav… I have never really forgotten, you know? I never will and you know it. I remember it _all_.”

The water surface was perfectly calm. Still. Silent. Even with currents of salty tears falling on it, sorrows drowning in lake’s depths. It didn’t care. But what the mass of water thinks was none of anybody’s concern. It was it’s occupant that was so important. The body laid in it to rest.

Eventually, the crying boy calmed down. Merlin looked up from where his head rested in his hands and watched the scenery. The lake, the tallest mountains, wild flowers. _A few fields, couple of cows…_ his mind supplied him.

* * *

Exhale.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Repeat.

* * *

There was one last thing to do. He cupped his hands and whispered into them steadily, like all those years ago, in the catacombs:

“ ** _Blóstma_** ”

And when he opened them, there were two perfect strawberries.

No roses today. He _can_ make strawberries. Shame it was too late.

Behind him, somebody took sharp intake of breath.

##  **Ξ** І †‡ ф ‡† І **Ξ**

Arthur had seen his ~~friend~~ servant sneaking out of the castle. It was late evening, curfew steadily nearing. Sun may not have started to set yet, but town was already getting sleepy.

 _Where are you going, Mer_ lin _?_ Arthur questioned.

It took him only few seconds to decide to follow his manservant. Why the hell no? He is King; he can do whatever he wants, even if it involves spying on oddly acting manservants. _He is probably going to the tavern… Well at least I will know which he visits so I can ban him from it. Ooh, his face when the barman says the King himself had forbidden them from giving him a tankard…_

That’s why Arthur was so surprised when Merlin didn’t stop at The Rising Sun. Well, he _stopped_ , but just to sadly look at the spot in front of the pub. Carts and horses normally parked here. After about a minute of staring into the blank space between two mules he took off again.

_This is getting weird, where the hell is that Idiot going?_

Merlin continued into the forest _._

_Is he really that stupid? There are bandits! That toad of servant doesn’t even have a sword! What happened to his sense of self-preservation? Oh, wait! He doesn’t have any!_

Arthur thought.

Luckily, they haven’t met any.

His servant walked out of the tree line and into the clearing. There was a magnificent lake, with tall mountains in the background and colourful carpet of beautiful wild flowers. _This is really romantic place; I should take Guinevire here, for a picnic, someday. Or we could go swimming with knights in here, after a hunt. I bet the lake would be refreshingly cool in the summer._ Merlin stopped and kneeled on the bank. He talked to no one, but Arthur couldn’t hear everything he was saying.

“Miss…Morgana…hemlock…Arthur and Gwen…us…d-d-died…”

There was sound of somebody sobbing. Merlin. _But_ _why would he be crying? I know he is a girl, but there is no reason to cry over **Morgana’s**_ _death._

Then one clear world rang out.

“ ** _Blóstma_** ”

That was not English. That was language of the Old Religion.

Merlin is a sorcerer.

 _Merlin **has magic**_.

##  **Ξ** І †‡ ф ‡† І **Ξ**

„Arthur, I promise, I can explain! I was doing nothing bad –“

Merlin pleaded with his king, golden shine still slowly melting from his dark blue eyes, hands clutching at magical strawberries. New tears started to fall down his face.

„Silence, _sorcerer._ ”

It was said with great disgust and hate. Merlin was scared.

Arthur dragged him through the forest, face clenched in pure anger. It was starting to get dark.

Merlin stumbled over some root, but Arthur didn’t let go, didn’t slow down his pace. Merlin managed to get back on his feet, his trousers and knees torn and bleeding. He knew he will have bruises on the arm where Arthur was pressing fingers into his flesh.

“Arthur, please stop, you are hurting me!”

Arthur swiftly turned around and slapped him.

“I said silence, you _filth_. Shut up or I will run you through where you stand!”

Merlin was terrified. _No, this can’t be happening. I have a destiny; Kilgarrah said half cannot hate what makes it whole. If that cryptic lizard has ever been right in something, it has to be this, **please**._

_I don’t want to die, I don’t waNT TO DIE!_

Merlin stumbled few more times before they arrived to the city. It was already night and there was nobody in the streets of the lower town. Arthur led him straight to the dungeons. He shoved Merlin in one cell, slammed the door and locked it. His hands were shaking. Than the hell set lose.

“Who are you, you bastard?! What have you done with my manservant?!”

Merlin stood up and walked over, as close to Arthur as he dared. He knew he had to look _desperate_ , but he didn’t care. His looks weren’t even nearly as desperate as he felt inside.

“I am Merlin. Arthur, _please_ let me explain-“

“You are **not** Merlin! He isn’t a filthy sorcerer! STOP LYING!”

Arthur punched the bars. The rumble echoed again and again, like drumming before an execution. Merlin jumped into the air and took two steps back. He put his trembling hands in front of him, as if calming an angry horse. He would be _so_ lucky, if it were _only_ a horse…

“I am not lying, Arthur, please, I am really Merlin, and- and I really have magic. But I use it for-“

“If you are not lying, than you have been lying all the time we have known each other! You are a traitor! Like Agravaine, like Lancelot, like Morgana! Have you been working for HER all the time? You were crying near that lake and I heard you mentioning her name. I heard you! HAVE

YOU BEEN BETRAYING ME FOR THAT **WITCH**?!!”

“Lancelot was no traitor! He was enchanted just like Gwe-“

“MAGIC IS EVIL! It killed my mother, it killed my father, it killed so many innocents! How could you turn to it! **HOW COULD YOU**!”

If Merlin wasn’t so terrified, he would have been wondering why nobody came down to check the shouting.

Guards were probably drunk, as usual. Or were they scared of the angry king too?

“Please, Arthur, I can explain, let me exp-“

“When were you going to kill me? Or were you after Guinevire, or one of my knights? They were your friends, HOW COULD YOU!!”

“NO, I was not going to kill anybody!”

“Like I could ever believe that, _sorcerer_.”

“Arthur, _please_ -“

“DON´T CALL ME ARTHUR, you dirt! We are not friends, not anymore! ... We never were. Monster.”

And than Arthur turned around and left. Merlin ran to the bars and held them for dear life, looking into the darkness, in direction where Arthur left. After few minutes, he gave up and slowly crawled to the corner of his little empty cell and started crying.

* * *

It didn’t took him long to realise, that he had no tears left.

Two perfect strawberries were still lying where they fell from sobbing warlock’s neckerchief.


	2. Of Empty Shells and Lost Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is supposed to explain small changes I created in the series, BEFORE Chapter 1.  
> So, Merlin is still in the cell...

Merlin was still curled in small ball when he stopped trembling and his thoughts finally emerged through his grief.

What made Arthur so angry and bitter? There used to be times when Merlin was sure Arthur contemplated possibility of goodness in magic. He helped Mordred, a _druid_ boy, didn’t he? He stood behind Gaius when he was accustomed by the Witchfinder. So why couldn’t he do the same for Merlin? Why couldn’t he let Merlin talk?

_Was he afraid of what I might say?_

_Why did he leave me alone?_

When Merlin pondered about what happened, in the dark corner of his small cell, he was sure of when the whole big mess started, when Arthur started to crack. The first blow was Morgana’s betrayal. _Betrayal that was your fault,_ sneered voice in Merlin’s head. It always hated warlock. Merlin tried not to think it sounded like Arthur.

* * *

_Merlin knew a lot of such voices. There was crowded in his mind. Their screams didn’t let him sleep at nights. There used to be good voices. Their words were sweet and full of love. Their lullabies soothed his nightmares._

_Today the greatest one of them surrendered to the darkness. Merlin’s mind was a merciless battlefield and the side of Light was slowly loosing._

_It hurt like hell._

##  **Ξ** І†‡ф‡†І **Ξ**

Next catastrophe was the death of Uther. Arthur lost his father; of course it made him bitterer.

Especially when he partly assigned this tragedy to magic. The whole thing went _so_ _wrong_ it made _Merlin_ forget to celebrate the end of tyrant’s reign. Why should be happy, even if it was only inside, when his best friend was in such distress?

Then Morgana sent Lancelot’s Shade to destroy the love between Arthur and Guinevire. Not that anyone knew it wasn’t their brother-in-arms.

_Life’s eyes are blind to what is right in front of it._

Everyone was so happy to see their long lost friend back in the land of living. Gwen especially. She used to love him and even after she promised her heart to Arthur, Lancelot still held special place in her eyes. She missed him.

“I missed him too…” said Merlin into the darkness. He got permanently lost in the past. Even with all its hurtful moments it was the safest time. Present was lonely and agonizing. Future was trembling in the shadow of executioner’s block.

“He was the only friend I could talk to…”

 _…without fear of pyre, without thinking about how much of betrayal would show in their eyes if they’ve seen what I can do. Who I am. Lancelot was one of few voices outside of my head I could laugh with._ Not that there weren’t others. Freya, Will, father… But all of them died so soon.

He died too.

_And then he came back._

The young warlock should have known it was too good to be true.

* * *

When it turned out that even with Lancelot back Gwen still loved Arthur, Morgana enchanted a bracelet to awake her long lost feelings for the noblest knight. But even Morgana couldn’t predict how strong this magic-induced love was.

Arthur (and Merlin thanks to eavesdropping) found out in Ealdor, while hiding from Agravaine and Morgana’s mercenaries.

Guinevire was with child.

And it wasn’t Arthur’s.

Arthur wasn’t very happy about it, but he loved Guinevire too much to be overly angry.

Merlin was ecstatic since the start. His friends were going to have a baby! When they were born, he could spoil them and tease Gwen mercilessly. Maybe they would even call him Uncle Merlin!

And maybe, maybe part of Lancelot would really come back in his child.

* * *

“My dear friend, what have happened with this world?” Merlin asked the cold wall.

 _Nothing. You just opened your eyes and seen its true face,_ answered calm voice, which sounded like Lancelot. Will’s voice murmured in agreement, somewhere in the background.

##  **Ξ** І†‡ф‡†І **Ξ**

Before this, immediately after Gwen was banished, there was that druid boy, possessing Elyan.

Thankfully, no one died, and no one was declared traitor. It was the one time, when all those disasters around Camelot were actually good for something.

 _Small mercies_. Merlin smiled softly in the memory.

Arthur allowed druids to return that day _. All of us, magic users, thought that the Golden Age of Albion was setting on us. That soon, we will be finally free._

It was a beautiful feeling.

Druids started to visit the lower town to trade their goods on market. They taught people about nature and forests, things only they knew, living there for twenty long years. After some distrust, villagers warmed up to the robed nation.

Once, when Merlin was doing his deliveries for Gaius outside the castle, he saw newly married couple, walking down the road. The bride still had white flowers in her hair. The groom had Triskellion tattoo on his left arm.

Their beaming smiles lightened up Merlin’s day better than sun ever could.

After about three weeks since making peace with druids, young man turned up on knights training.

He said he would like to become one of Camelot’s finest.

He was a druid.

Arthur challenged him to fight, to see how good he was with sword. It lasted full minute and although Arthur won, everyone could see that the youngster had talent with sword rarely seen among men of his age. Arthur asked the stranger:

“Who are you? Your sword skill is better then of some of my knights.”

He answered: “My name is Mordred. Do you remember me, my lord?”

* * *

Mordred had immediately joined the training. He was knighted a month later.

Another proof, that magic and sword can fight together.

* * *

“Albion’s golden age indeed,” stated Merlin thoughtfully, with sad expression on his face. “Shame it didn’t stick around very long.”

The wall was still carefully listening. As much as ignorant peace of rock could. Merlin thought it the best listener he had in a while.

##  **Ξ** І†‡ф‡†І **Ξ**

What hurt Merlin’s king next? _Was he still Merlin’s king? Was he-_

Morgana came back upon her bloody stage. What a drama indeed. It broke audience’s hearts.

Agravaine turned out to be the traitor Merlin told Arthur he was. The king didn’t listen. He never does. It could have spared him the pain of yet another family member betraying him. It must be some Pendragon curse.

 _Hatred never cares who it affects_ … Well Merlin should know. Right now, he was hated by his best friend.

And yet it still hurt Arthur, when his traitor of uncle died.

His blood was on Merlin’s hands. _You killed me,_ sneered Agravaine’s voice. Former servant ignored it. The death of Agravaine de Bois was one of the few things he didn’t regret.

When did he stop caring?

Merlin pulled his knees back to his chest and tried to sleep. The idea of escape hadn’t even crossed his mind. Where would he go? Only death could sooth his broken heart.

He still couldn’t stop the voices. Arthur’s was the loudest. It sounded disappointed.


	3. Of Grave Decision

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning:  
> Gaius is a model grandfather  
> Gwaine thinks in emojis  
> And Arthur does something terrible.

Arthur stood alone in his chambers. His beautiful Guinevire was peacefully sleeping in chamber one door down the corridor. She was safe. As was his kingdom, his people, most of his friends. And yet he was full of anger and sadness.

_How could he, I thought we were friends. How dare he to pretend he cared for me? How did I not notice that someone so close to me has magic?_ screamed something furious in Arthur.

 ** _He lied to me all these years…_** Murmured another, sorrowful part of king.

* * *

It was a battle of two voices. They argued, yet they believed in same thing, they were the same man…

One talked about the present and future

**Other of the past.**

One spoke of the evil

**Other of what used to be good.**

Which one of them was closer to the Truth?

Why did they see only Black and White?

They agreed

And they disagreed.

They both lived in heart.

The Heart was shattered to handful of pieces…

…but the voices remained.

The damage on them was already done.

They were half-blind to the world.

* * *

_Magic is pure evil, everyone with magic aims to destroy Camelot! Its touch corrupts the men who fall for its charms… Everyone knows that, Merlin too! Why had he turned to it?_

**_Merlin always believed there is goodness in everything. He was always such girl about it._**

 **_Crying over dead bunnies, wearing flowers under neckerchief… For God’s sake, I caught him once steeling woman dress! What made someone so naïve and innocent chose to practise magic,_ ** **_the greatest evil of them all?_**

_He is hardly innocent and naïve! He is sorcerer, he seeks to destroy and spread pain and hatred! All of them do! He should be burned on stake, like all of his kind! Or he will become another Morgana!_

**_Morgana used to be sweet and kind too… It was magic, what made her the monster she is today! It’s all magic’s fault!_ **

Young king started pacing in front of his window. He had chosen who to blame.

_That’s it! Merlin was naïve, he must have believed that magic isn’t all that bad… so he started to practise it, to “help”. That sounds like something the clumsy idiot would do._

_**Poor Merlin… I can’t even imagine what it had done to him by now…**_

**_My best friend was as good as dead and I haven’t even noticed…_ **

_The sorcerer must die. I can’t dishonour my most loyal man, my_ brother _by_ _letting the beast magic made of him live. ~~He~~ **It** must die painfully for its crimes. Stake isn’t enough. It has murdered my family, the revenge must be adequate._

**_But can I do it?_ **

**_Can I look into those blue eyes that were once his and see them filled with pain, see their light_ ** **_fading?_**

##  **Ξ** І†‡ф‡†І **Ξ**

**No.**

**_No, I can’t._ **

##  **Ξ** І†‡ф‡†І **Ξ**

Arthur punched the wall. He felt weak. He couldn’t even avenge his dearest friend.

Unbeknown to him, it started to rain outside.

Somewhere deep in the dungeon, Merlin fell into uneasy slumber.

Sky shed tears for her little brother.

##  **Ξ** І†‡ф‡†І **Ξ**

After few hours of thinking Arthur found a solution. It wasn’t perfect – he would much more prefer to deal with the monster himself, to make sure it suffered enough for Merlin’s death. But he just _couldn’t_.

So he contacted one old ally of his father. His name was Sarrum – king Sarrum – who hated magic even more than Pendragons. The way he treated – tortured – magic users was notorious across the five kingdoms. _Yes, he would make sure the beast suffers._

##  **Ξ** І†‡ф‡†І **Ξ**

_King Sarrum, ruler of the kingdom of Amata,_

_I have found myself in situation I am sure You, in name of friendship between you and my father, late king Uther Pendragon, could help me with. I believe that the task I am humbly asking of you is in interest of both of our nations._

_Today, I have uncovered a sorcerer in my close circle. He worked as my manservant for good ten years and was corrupted by magic. It has changed the man I knew from loyal and brave youth to the filthy creature all sorcerers are. I seek to avenge the good subject he once was, but I cannot do so, not without alerting the people in the castle. The sorcerer befriended lots of knights, servants, even my soon-to-be-queen. Them finding out the terrible truth about their confidant would lead to the panic and my position would be unstable._

_Magic had wormed its way deep into the kingdom’s heart._

_So I humbly ask you, if you couldn’t take the matter into your competent hands. From my fathers stories and your reputation I know you will make sure the filth will suffer enough. It will be another step to clear the world of magic and to create better future for our kingdoms and our alliance._

_King Arthur Pendragon,_

_Ruler of Camelot,_

_May our lands be free of magic soon_

##  **Ξ** І†‡ф‡†І **Ξ**

Gaius woke up. His joints were aching; it must have been raining during the night. Sun’s beams were already peaking from behind the horizon. He got up; his spine cracked at several places; and went to the fire place to prepare some tea and porridge. _I need to make Merlin eat it all this time. He is malnourished and the youth needs something to grow from._

Soon, the breakfast was done and set on the table. There was slight food shortage since Morgana’s last invasion, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as that time with killed unicorn. And if there was a single drop of water in kingdom, than there also would be a cup of warm herbal tea in physician’s household. _Mint, rose hip, thyme and chamomile. And a drop of honey for sweet tooth_. _Helps with flu and strengthens immunity. Good for any day._ The old physician happily blew steam off his favourite mug.

The worst injured people from the siege were already out of mortal danger (either dead or stabilised); there were no plagues in Camelot or surrounding villages and no terrible catastrophe like fire or unstable buildings. Gaius had more free time on his hands than he had in months.

The only thing that worried him was Merlin. Yesterday, there was an anniversary of the death of that girl – Freya. Gaius’s old poor heart hurt at the thought of his young ward going through such terrible thing as loss of loved one. The worst about it was that Merlin had lost people close to him.

His father, his childhood friend, Lancelot, the girl he loved…

Physician got up and opened one cupboard. He pulled out a jar of honey (that wasn’t destined for treating of infected wounds) and put half a spoon into his adopted son’s cup of tea. He hoped it will lift Merlin’s spirits and will remind him that some people that care for him are still alive. _The boy deserves at least that_.

##  **Ξ** І†‡ф‡†І **Ξ**

Gwaine was already out of the bed. Better said, he didn’t sleep in it last night. There was a pretty new bartender in The Rising Sun. Gwaine had given himself a great quest to slay her heart (and if possible charm his way into her bed). He accomplished both after two visits in the inn. _No woman can resist the fabulous flirt of handsome sir Gwaine,_ he thought proudly, ignoring the hangover.

(The remark of Gwaine’s honest self _“Gwen and Morgana could”_ was ignored with grace.)

The knight was just about to change his clothes, when there was a knock on his door. When he opened them he saw a servant with toady expression on his face. Gwaine recognized him as George – he acted as Arthur’s manservant when Merlin was away (“spending a day in tavern” as Arthur said it – Gwaine was proud of his young friend).

“His Majesty King Arthur calls a meeting of the “original Roundtable”, at his chambers, sir. He wishes everyone to join him in twenty minutes, sir” said George.

_Original Roundtable? Such meeting wasn’t held in months! I quite like this idea. I haven’t seen our dear Merlin in aaaaages. I have at least three new adventures to tell him. Oh, that will be a laugh :) :) :D :D!_

“Tell the princess I’ll be there in a second!”

##  **Ξ** І†‡ф‡†І **Ξ**

Mordred was confused. He felt honoured to be invited to the original Roundtable meeting, even though he wasn’t strictly a member. After all, _Emrys_ and _The Once and Future King_ were its founders! Who was he against these two legends?

_But why was the meeting being called? If it were invasion or something like that there would be all the knights and councilmen. What is going on?_

When he arrived to king’s chambers, nearly everyone was there: Sirs Leon, Elyan, Percival and Gwaine, physician Gaius, king Arthur and soon-to-be-queen Guinevire ( _She told you to call her Gwen, don’t forget it, Mordred_ ). Only Emrys was missing.

“Well, lets get started. I have summoned you in-“ “My lord?” Mordred asked.

“Yes, sir Mordred?”

“Where is Em – Merlin, my lord?”

“Merlin… Merlin is… Merlin is dead.”


	4. Of Gained Family's Loss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> News are recieved.
> 
> Not everyone believes  
> Not everyone understands  
> No one is happy about them
> 
> All of them care

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for being late.  
> School envies ao3 for steeling my time and decided to tip the score.  
> Internet connection didn´t like either idea and jumped of the cliff.

“What? No way in hell, Princess, this joke is really stupid, stop it right now… Did you hear me? Drop it! Why are you looking at me like that?”

Arthur didn’t answer. His expression was blank, dull eyes watching Gwaine drown in confusion.

The king felt empty.

What was missing in him?

_Ah, yeah, he was missing. What else?_

There was slight concern in rogue knight’s words. _Does he really believe I would lie to them about something like that?_

_You probably would. Isn’t it what you are doing just now?_

**NO!**

“Merlin, mate, come out from wherever you are hiding, you’ve both had your fun! Merlin do you hear me? What are you waiting for?” The poor knight looked around, but there was no grinning servant climbing out from under the bed or peeping from behind the curtain. There was only silence.

_There was never silence when Merlin was around… I forgot its sound._

“M-Merlin? If this is really a joke, stop it right now. Come out!” this time it was Gaius. His ward couldn’t be dead, no matter how serious and sad King looks! _Merlin **never** dies; it isn’t important how many times he is in mortal situation. Yes, it’s just some stupid “prank”, or how Merlin calls them._ Gaius’s mind found it as the only imaginable explanation and clinged to it with sureness of drowning man. Because Merlin **wasn’t** dead.

“Merlin, if you don’t stop this stupidity right now, you will be cleaning the leech tank for whole week. You nearly gave me a heart attack, you foolish boy!”

“Arthur, please, tell me it isn’t true,” said gently Gwen. There were tears forming in her eyes. She could see that her fiancé wasn’t lying.

Nobody can fake sadness in their eyes.

Not even a king.

But… Merlin couldn’t be dead, right?

Arthur stayed silent. His heart was breaking with their every word. Even the sound of its pieces falling on the ground couldn’t be heard through the silence. _You should be there, my friend, you should see how they believe in you. Why did you leave us?_

“I saw him sneaking out of the citadel and decided to follow him. He went to the forest, without a weapon to protect himself. I don’t know why. He stopped by a lake and suddenly…“

The monotonous words joined the mess on the ground. Their dullness dyed his heart grey.

The king took deep breath. He couldn’t tell them the truth. It ached and screamed in his insides. It _hurt_. Their friends don’t deserve such fate. Merlin’s friends. Merlin’s family.

_Surely he wouldn’t want to cause them the pain of knowing he betrayed them?_

**_IT WASN´T HIM!_ **

“…suddenly the bandits swarmed out. He didn’t stand a chance.”

“No!” “-can’t be- “ “what…” “WHY?!” “ _Please…_ ”

“When I ran to him to help, he was already impaled on a bandit’s sword. He… He died without pain.

There wasn’t anything I could do for him. I buried him at the lake. He… He is free now.”

Gaius was staring open-mouthed into the wall. His bottom lip was trembling.

* * *

_And maybe somewhere above them all, some walking-by deity said:_

**_"Hey, it’s okay to cry,_ **

**_your son just died..._ **

* * *

Gwen buried her head in Arthur’s shoulder. He felt it getting wet.

* * *

**_...Drown your sorrows in the fabric,_ **

**_it doesn’t care, though its wearer might..._ **

* * *

Mordred was still comprehending what happened. He couldn’t believe it.

* * *

**_...It is none of anybody’s concern what do you think,_ **

**_so think freely..._ **

* * *

Gwaine harshly stood up. He didn’t stop the chair from falling.

* * *

**_...Those words hurt like the sword that killed your first friend,_ **

**_don’t they?..._ **

* * *

Leon, Percival and Elyan were mournfully accepting.

* * *

**_...Miracles don’t happen to you._ **

**_Not anymore._ **

**_The only miracle worker left for the better world."_ **

_The unknown deity would be quoting certain servant, from where he poured his soul on his love’s_ _grave. But nobody would hear it._

* * *

Arthur was just empty.

_I miss you, Idiot, you have no idea how much._

* * *

He thought it better to tell them this version. It was more honourable to die in a fight then to be taken over by a bloodthirsty monster created by magic.

And Merlin deserved all the honour on this twisted world.

“You are lying!” whispered Gwaine. He was weeping, even if he hadn’t noticed it yet. He may have not believed the king, but his heart did. And it bled through knights eyes. For a friend.

“I am not.”

_It’s for your own good._

Arthur looked at his feet. Then on the floor.

There were neither monotonous words, nor his grey, shatted heart.

He wasn’t surprised.

Maybe his mind hired some competent servant to clean up the mess.


	5. Of strength, Strength and Druid

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For some weird reason I am fascinated with Daegal.  
> I know he was just a small character who practically instantaneously died, but I can’t help myself.  
> There is really little of stories with him in them, so I just put him in there. You can’t stop me and anyway, he deserves it.
> 
> Another weird obsession of mine is Edwin Muirden. But he is evil (meaning he is trying to revenge someone by killing wrong people) and I don’t really fancy bugs.
> 
> So he is dead and will stay like that ´till the Armageddon.
> 
> I am late. Sorry.  
> The previous chapters were slightly edited, but only wording, not the story. It should be bit better for reading now. I would still recommend to reread it. If you have the patience with me.

Mordred numbly walked out of the royal chambers. The meeting was declared finished when there wasn’t a person with dry eyes. His mind was running in one big circle: _Arthur said Merlin is dead. But Merlin is Emrys. Emrys can’t be dead. He is said to be immortal and destiny wouldn’t let him go that easily. But Emrys is Merlin. And Arthur said Merlin is dead._

_…_

_What?_

The young knight was standing in the middle of the corridor and passing servants were throwing him weird looks. He didn’t really care. His mind got bugged and repeated itself, so what? He wasn’t the only one. Gwaine was sitting on the floor few feet to his right, his back propped against the wall, knees drawn to his chest. His glassy eyes were laid on a very interesting doorknob. Anything can be interesting, until you start to think about it. And thinking about curved peaces of metal wasn’t right now something either men was capable of. There was only one thought in their minds… Not that anyone but them knew.

* * *

_The two of them must have been quite spectacle._

_Two unmoving knights staring at nothing. Their eyes dull as an unpolished sword._

_Two statues clad in blood red capes, anguish caricatures of proud warriors. Just two pieces of stone from mausoleum, forgotten in the halls of living._

_Or maybe not forgotten. Maybe the one in charge of their placement just couldn’t give them directions anymore._

_They were stuck in the world, which doesn’t know the pain of being unable to move. To help. To save a friend._

_Or maybe it does. Maybe it is just too cruel to keep them company in their stony silence. But who besides tragic souls cares about abandoned statues?_

* * *

**_What is it, ´Dred? Why are you sad?_ **

Mordred knew the voice well. He was only thirteen when dragon soldiers ransacked the druid camp he was staying with. He managed to run away, but at what price? There was a time loop behind his closed eyes. When his eyelids fell under the weight of the life, he returned. Was it red knight, or his own mind, that dragged him back to the bodies of his brothers and sisters?

He was wandering between indifferent trees for about six months, when he found the boy. He was about his age, maybe a little bit younger. The image of his convulsing carcass was all too similar to those Mordred have seen every night. His life was escaping him from under painfully clenched finger tips. A river of crimson – thick, warm and absolute.

His name was Daegal. He had a little sister. She wasn’t there to calm him in his passing. In his dying breath he had given Mordred a necklace with a rune pendant. The Druid boy held his hand until his heart stopped. Daegal fell into eternal slumber. Young Mordred envied him. Dead soul couldn’t dwell in the past, could it?

It was in the evening the same day when he heard the voice. It came from the pendant, from the rune. It sounded like Daegal. And little Mordred gained his first true friend. Who cares it was just shadow of a fallen stranger? Desperate people do desperate things. Even (or especially) if they are but naïve children.

**_Mordred? What happened?_ **

_He… – died. But it doesn’t make sense_

**_Who? And what are you so suspicious of?_ **

_Merlin…_

_…Merlin is Emrys. … Emrys can’t be dead… Arthur said he is…_

_Arthur lied_.

**_But why? You always say Arthur is honourable man, why would he do something so…bad._ **

**_Unless he thought it was better option._ **

_To… spare us something?_

**** **_What could be worse than death?_ **

_Slow and painful death?_

**_You said Emrys can’t die, ´Dred…_ **

**_Ageing isn’t doing you any good, is your brain rotting up there?_ ** ****

Mordred knew his friend was only trying to help. He clinged to the insult like drowning man would to a rope.

_At least I am not stuck in necklace, cursed to be angsty teenager now, always and forever…_

**_…_ **

**_That was just evil._ **

_Sorry, ´Gal._

_I meant stuck in the Great Rune of Egiram._

**_You suck, ´Dred. But you are my best friend anyway._ **

_I am your only one._

**** **_Which means that you are also the worst. Happy now?_**

_No._

Mordred heard Daegal snigger. If you looked on the youngest knight, you might have seen small smile on his face too. His mind was clearer. _Maybe there was a way to make sense of all this mess,_ he thought to himself.

**_Back to the topic. Why would King Arthur lie to you?_ **

**_What is worse to hear than news of someone’s death?_ ** ****

_…_

_Betrayal?_

_But Emrys would never betray the Once and Future King!!!_

**_Your “oh so bright” sovereign doesn’t seem to agree with you…_ ** ****

_Magic._

_Arthur must have found Merlin has magic._

##  **Ξ** І†‡ф‡†І **Ξ**

“Come on, Gwaine! We don’t have much time!”

Both knights were running towards the dungeon in full speed. The small regained hope and big desperation gave them more strength then anything.

Gwaine knew Merlin had magic since the first time they met, plates don’t levitate just because they don’t fancy one side’s odds in tavern brawl (no matter how much is mentioned side drunk). The things Mordred said in hurry made some sense. More then the other possibility, mentioned by Arthur.

_Arthur. I am so going to kill him! And if Merlin really is in dungeon, than I will ask him to resurrect Arthur and kill him again. How dares he?_

Gwaine and Mordred ran past the guards and into hallway leading towards the cells.

They found them all empty of people.

In one, there laid two crushed strawberries and a scrap of cloth, that (if you ignored the blood) maybe used to be a red neckerchief.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is there a way to upload an image straight from the computer, without uploading it firstly somewhere on random webside?


	6. Of Paths unknown and Life of Magic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was thinking:  
> People often use "magic supressing" in they stories, mostly manacles, sometimes potion.  
> They never explain it much it mostly either puts barrier between sorcerer and magic, sorcerer’s magic and outside of his body, or it just dumps magic down and makes it too slugish to use. Or something like that.
> 
> So, there is my take on this topic.  
> I couldn’t help myself so it’s quite thought through theory, containing surpressing itself, what is the difference between sorcerers and warlocks and how access to magic works.  
> That theory isn´t copyright from somewhere, it is product of mind combined with Merlin, created at 11 o´clock at night.  
> ...  
> :)
> 
> It’s just the describing something getting little out of hand.

When Merlin woke up, he found himself bound in chains in darkness. There were some men, in the background, murmuring, moving. He felt like the insides of his chest were boiling. Like the normally kind warmth of his heart, of his _soul_ , grown ten times and concentrated in a single point, in the deepest bottom of his very being. It was like a star: small shining thing in the mass of black. Yet it was so powerful its energy made itself seen from eternity away. His body was like stormy cloud – the only thing shielding the light of the ethereal entity from the mortals watching it from the Earth.

There was only one thought in Merlin’s head: _Is this what pyre feels like?_

##  **Ξ** І†‡ф‡†І **Ξ**

The second time he opened his eyes he could see a sliver of sunlight coming from something that generous man would call a small window. There were bars on it and no glass. He was lying on the floor of the empty wagon. It was moving, rumbling on an uneven road Goddess knows where.

The burning inside him hadn’t ceased, if anything it increased. Like even more energy joined the small bundle of whirling _light_. But it felt duller then the first time. He was probably getting used to it. That was until his mind finally snapped and he understood just _what_ it is.

His Magic.

Arthur had let somebody bind Merlin’s magic.

##  **Ξ** І†‡ф‡†І **Ξ**

When he swam out of the unconsciousness for the third time, there were voices shouting outside of the cart. He didn’t bother trying to understand them – there was nothing they could say to make him feel better, so why should he listen?

He tried to touch his magic; maybe he could find what was exactly wrong with it. He extended an abstract hand from his heart and led it towards the swirling feeling in the pit of his soul. It was nearly out of reach and warlock felt like a little boy standing on the tips of his toes trying to touch a toy on the top shelf. Just when he thought about ways to create imaginary abstract stool to stand on, he felt it under his fingers. It burned and hurt, it was too much to be safely hold. He snatched his consciousness away and thought back on what Mordred told him about magic suppressors.

* * *

_"Everyone has magic in them. It is helping life run its course, it is part of our bodies, it keeps our systems running. It is our Life force. It never stops, it reproduces itself so that life can use it and it will still be alive. Every living being contains at least that much magic. Magical creatures contain more of this universal energy than others and it makes some of their properties functioning absolutely against the science. So everyone, depending on their species, has at least this minimal amount – the natural magic. It is bound to body’s functions and not to its wielders will."_

_"Than there is the other type of magic: when the being has excessive magic in their body. The rate again is different when it comes to different species: dragon is always born with massive stocks of such energy, but rabbits have just the pure minimum. This magic (the supranatural magic) isn’t bound to one function. The more power individual holds, the more consciously and the more he can control it. Chanel it._

_For example rabbit would be capable of using this power only subconsciously in state of total mental concentration towards surviving – escaping from predator, running for life. Even then, the result of this use of excessive magic would (in most cases) be one jump few inches higher then what would be physically possible for the rabbit individual._

_But dragons with their massive reserves can command it without **any** emotional pressure."_

_"As for humans, this has different result with every single person. Most of the population is around the level of rabbit: they don’t consciously use magic, just under enormous pressure and with very little significance._

_Others have a little bit more and it subconsciously pours itself into certain body functions – those people are faster or stronger than they should be, are immune to some plagues or poisons et cetera. But under certain circumstances it still can lash out of the body itself. The changes are stronger, but still nothing bigger than what can be considered normal luck._

_At one point, when human has certain amount of supranatural magic, the individual is capable of controlling it. The human mind has adapted to do so through certain words – enchantments and spells. (Magical creatures with ability to think are shaped for another ways – different set of words or just thoughts.) Enchantments and spells connect mind’s command with excessive magic and this magic is then released to do its work through (usually) hands or magical objects that are somewhat in contact with them._

_People with conscious control over their supranatural magic can be put into two groups: the weaker – sorcerers and sorceresses – and the more powerful – warlocks and witches._

_The first category has to spend years accustoming their bodies to channel magic on command. But the more control they get, the less likely is magic to respond to subconscious plea for help. So most of them can’t do any magic when under extreme pressure – they can’t concentrate enough and it won’t come on its own like it would with not controlled one._

_Warlocks and witches are humans with the highest amount of supranatural magic. They are the rarest. They can (from certain age) do magic subconsciously even with little or none pressure. “It is like their magic had mind of its own”. They gain control more easily and can channel more power. And when in distress, the magic will still come on its own."_

_"The magic suppressants are in theory objects that contain refined magic: if sorcerer performs certain dark ritual certain (high) amount of times, his supranatural magic mutates and naturally repeals clear supranatural magic of other beings. Such changed magic can’t be used for anything: it can just be transformed from body to something. It just is._

_In most cases they are metal objects: chains circling victim’s body_ (that was Merlin’s case right now) _to repulse victim’s magic deep inside of their body, manacles on hands to cut off channel between body and environment or necklaces and collars, to cut off command before it even reaches magic. The steel would be filled with refined magic and it will naturally (or unnaturally) repulse any excessive magic around it."_

* * *

Merlin knew that by the theory he shouldn’t be capable of _touching_ his magic. But, well, he was always unusual, why shouldn’t he be exception in this case too.

His thinking was abruptly stopped when somebody opened the door of the wagon. A young girl was thrown in, dry tears in waves frozen on her pretty face. She was wrapped in chains too. The door slammed shut and the cart continued its way.

Merlin decided that this was a perfect chance to find out what the hell is going on.

“Hi, do you by any chance where are we going?”

The girl looked at him, panic and shock and fear written all over her.

“Don’t you know??? They are taking us to king Sarrum the Magickiller! We are all going to die!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have a mercy, it is after midnight here.  
> I will reread (and edit) it tomorow (today?), sorry for whatever mistakes that will torment you here.


	7. Of Dark Ends and Darker Beginnings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to Amata!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, the bloody scenes start here. Sorry.  
> If you don´t like, don´t read.

It took some time for Merlin to calm her down. From what he got from her between the sobs, her name was Atala and she was one of the two children of her village’s tavern owner. Said village laid on the border between Camelot and Mercia, on the bank of a big river, which was one of the more popular trade routs between two kingdoms. Atala had little magic of her own, using it mostly to grow pretty flowers and dye clothes to make herself more beautiful. The rich colours soon attracted unwanted attention and witchfinders came. That is how she ended up bound and thrown into the prisoner wagon heading towards Amata.

Every magic user heard of King Sarrum of Amata. The only man who hated their kind more than Magickiller was Uther Pendragon. Sarrum hadn’t captured as many sorcerers as Uther, but what he did to them afterwards was much worse than pyre. That didn’t mean that when the king had his fun with broken captives they weren’t burned anyway. “The Happy End”, Amatiens called it. “The big, ugly, _magic_ villain was punished and now we just let the God’s fire take care of what of the evil is left. But beware our dear children, evil is never fully dead, the monster grows two heads when you cut one down. So if you ever see a wicked man or woman with malicious golden eyes, tell your parents. They will tell the king and he will protect us all. Now you have had your story, so close your eyes, go to sleep and sweet dreams!”

What a beautiful fairy-tale.

Love and unity wins over hatred and fear and everyone is, in the end, save and sound.

Long live the King.

* * *

Merlin remembered the stories his mother with tears in her eyes used to tell his scrawny self before going to sleep on the cold floor with empty stomach and bare feet.

He remembered tales of little boys with magic and coal black hair.

He remembered how in those stories there was never happy end.

There were cruel knights who soaked their capes in blood of the little boy. There were crazy kings who stole little boy’s eyes to use their shining gold to draw the dragons on their crests. There were evil people who burned the little boy on pile of wood and spiked their food with the ash. There were other little boys and little girls, who hadn’t golden eyes and happy warm swirling feeling under they skin. Those children were laughing in delight and clapping when magical boy laid his head on the executioner’s block. One of those children was a blue-eyed prince.

“And my dear Merlin, this isn’t just a fairy-tale. So, you have to never show your magic to anyone. You never know if there isn’t an evil man or cruel knight looking. We don’t want you to end up like the black-haired little boy, do we?”

Little Merlin would vigorously shake his head until he felt like it could fly away and he would curl up on the cold floor. He would wake up screaming few hours afterwards.

But he would live.

* * *

The cart came to an abrupt stop. Huh. He must have fallen asleep. Had he dreamt of the Bloodied Knights?

The door opened and revealed stone walls and dark sky. Black silhouettes of burly men climbed in, two on each prisoner and dragged Merlin and Atala out. The poor girl started cry and plead for mercy all over again. Merlin didn’t like her. Who is stupid enough to use magic on so trivial matters and than show it’s creations on the street, just like that? She wasn’t that young – she was at least 16 years old. He knew not to do such mistakes when he was 8. And from the looks of it she knew very well what awaits those who are caught. If she knew this, than she should also know whining will only make it worse.

Merlin didn’t share her fear. He grew up on stories about Camelot, Amata was an unknown concept. And what could they do to him now, anyway? After he lost everything, what more could Sarrum take?

Two magic users were lugged across an unfamiliar courtyard, through dark hallways and into the door. Behind the door there was the throne room. There, they were made to kneel. On the beautiful chair of pure gold and rubies there sat a man.

Sarrum the Magickiller, King of Amata.

“So this is the plague that infested our lands. You wouldn’t say, would you? They look so human. But when you remember what is inside…”

A dramatic silence resonated through all of them. Even Atala stopped crying. If she is at least little clever, she won’t try to plead with the king. She wouldn’t stand a chance. All the two of them could do was to keep their mouths shut and ready themselves for yet another speech about saving the humanity from evils of sorcery.

“My dear children, you have been touched by the greatest evil of them all. You are now evil too. I am so sorry I couldn’t save you when you were as pure as snow. It is too late. Once the magic settled, there is no way back. But believe: I am still going to do everything in my power to help you.

You have already sinned. You, my son, magic made you betray your beloved king. It made you _monster_. It made you work against your own friends, your family and most of all yourself. Do you see how evil it is? It doesn’t cause anything but sadness. Do you see what has it done to people you love? Your own king sent you here, so I could help you. Will you let me?"

Merlin felt _sick_. He knew that Sarrum will “ _help”_ him no matter if he does want or not. The king talked of himself as if he were their Savior. As if torture and murder was an act of good will. As if pain was something to be treasured. As if suffering was a prized gift all children wished for.

Not even Sarrum the Magickiller could ever believe that, no matter how crazy he is. Merlin looked him in the eyes and saw amusement. Sarrum was laughing in their faces. He didn’t even look away to hide it. It was out in the open for everyone with brain to see.

Merlin ignored the remark about Arthur sending him here for “ _help_ ” and stayed silent.

“Oh my poor boy. You have been taken over completely, I see. I am so sorry. It is such a shame.

And what about you, my daughter? Magic made you steel, did you even notice? When magic made you change colour of your dress, it took the job from the dyer. When he doesn’t have a job, he doesn’t have money. And if he doesn’t have money he and his whole family will starve. Do you see what evil magic made you do, my child?”

“Yes, yes! I am so so so sorry, my lord. So so so sorry…” Naïve Atala. Does she really believe this will do her any good? It only amuses the cruel king more. Merlin slumped in his chains where he was kneeling.

“Please my lord, please help me! Help me be good again, so I can return to my family!” Stupid, naïve, poor Atala.

“I am afraid it is too late my dear. I apology. There is only one thing I can do to help your kind. I can make you suffer in this life, so you won’t suffer in whatever comes next. But I see you are not fully fallen for magic’s charms. Maybe you don’t need to feel so much of pain…

Kill her now.”

Atala had time for one yelp, before sword went through her gut. The gasp that left her lips was the only thing heard in throne room. Her eyes were wide and she was staring in shock and pain at Sarrum. She bent forward, still bound in chains. She couldn’t move her hands to support herself. Her forehead touched the floor. Blood and tears mixed in one growing puddle beneath her knees. The tips of her blond hair were crimson and sticky with her own life running away from her. Still on the floor, she turned her head towards Merlin. Her eyes were still wide. Like she still couldn’t believe it – that there was hole in her stomach. That this was the end. Those eyes were talking to Merlin, they were screaming: _”Please, help me!”_ They held the same last wish when the light retreated from them. You could as well blow a candle – only smoke remains. Her body fell to the side. The canary yellow dress were soaked in blood.

“Shame, isn’t it, such a pretty young lady, isn’t the magic just cruel?” chuckled Sarrum from his throne. He let out a booming laugh. “What a shame indeed. I would enjoy her screams.”

The crazy king waved his hand and the men holding Merlin straightened in attention. They picked him up from his knees and marched him out of the room. The maniac laugher and dead eyes accompanied them out of the door. Merlin wasn’t looking where they were taking him. He was watching again and again how Atala’s body hit the floor.

They stopped in front of iron door. They threw him inside. He landed on something warm. He looked around.

The thing he sat on was rolled up tail of young white dragon. And little further, between dragon’s front legs, there was chained young woman with black messy hair.

They were young Aithusa and witch Morgana Pendragon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is dyer a word?  
> If not, how else do you call man who dyes textil as profession?


	8. Of revealed secrets and tears shed in the dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin and Morgana have few words.  
> Merlin finaly stops blaming himselffor everything.

Both woman and dragon were in bad shape. They were dirty. Morgana had black bags under her eyes. Aithusa, beside the fact that her scales were less shiny than rthe last time he saw her, was more or less alright. But it would be harder to notice wrongs on lizard body than on human one.

“You?”

Morgana was staring at him at shock. She was dressed in black rags from her last invasion. They were even more unkept than back than. Her hand smeared with ash and coal tightly clutched on Aithusa’s wing she was partly hidden under. It was protecting her from stormy blue eyes.

She looked at the chains binding him. Her mouth fell open.

“You - you have magic?” Her voice was small. It sounded like little girl whose parents just died in front of her eyes and she was still in process of trying to understand what happened. But her heart already knew. There were manacles around her wrists, sucking against her power like the chains he wore.

“And you –you didn’t tell me?” She asked. Tears were forming in her eyes. She was no longer the Morgana who tried to kill her own brother to gain a throne. She was the scared young woman again. For now. _Oh my God, what did this place do to her?_

“If I were to return to that day you told me you had magic, I would have helped you hundred times. I was stupid and scared back than and everybody told me not to. I regret that decision every time I think about it now.” He sounded hoarse from holding back screaming. _Dum_. Body in canary yellow dress hitting the floor. _Dum_. Purple-clad girl choking on hemlock. _Dum_. Boy in red neckerchief stumbling over roots, being dragged towards grey-stoned castle. A single tear slid down his cheek.

“Who? Who told you not to trust me?” She whispered.

“The Great Dragon, Kilgharrah. Gaius knew about your magic before I did and he also forbade me from telling you. The fear I held for my life.”

“Is that why you poisoned me? Because others told you to so you tried to kill your friend?” She was putting herself back together hiding her hurt behind mask of High Priestess, whose fury rains on those who anger her. She would rather be the evil witch from fairy-tales than the helpless victim of man she trusted. The curtain of hate pulled over her face. But Merlin knew better than to believe it. There was just a girl behind it. There always was. A crying actress watching her dark role take over.

“It was either one of my friends and regretting it forever more or all of my friends but one and no time for regret ever more!” He wanted to explain, he wanted at least _somebody_ to let him. Arthur didn’t. He was the one that mattered the most, but he didn’t. let. him. explain.

If Merlin didn’t say it loud, fast and **now** he might not say it at all.

But Morgana didn’t feel with his needs. Her anger became real, it was no longer mask. There was nothing stopping it.

“What, all of your friends and no time anymore? You just poisoned me! Your friends are worth nothing to you, if you kill them out of blue! I was wandering how Lancelot died! Well, you two were always pretty close, now I have an answer!”

“No! I would never- I didn’t poison you just for the fun of it! Is that how you think of me? If I didn’t do it, the Camelot would have fallen that time!”

“Really? I wasn’t doing anything bad!” she screamed out. Her expression was full of blame and hatred. She abruptly pulled at her chains, rumbling echoing through small cell and emphasising every. single. word.

“You were the vessel of the spell!” Merlin yelled out exasperatedly.

“What spell?”

“The one that put everybody to sleep for the Medhir knights to slaughter! Wait, you – you didn’t know?”

_She didn’t know? Was she doing it without free will? Did Morgause erase her memory of it? Didn’t she know why I was doing it?_

_Did she really thought I was just killing her because of nothing?_

“I was no vessel!”

_Oh no._

“But - you were! Morgause made you the origin of her curse. That is why you were the only one who wasn’t even tired! The only way to stop such thing is to destroy the vessel! To destroy you. To kill you. Otherwise everybody would have succumbed to oblivion and the knights would under Morgause’s commands kill us all. And you would have been her puppet queen, sitting on the throne gained by mass slaughter.”

_I am sorry. I am so so so sorry._

“Magic would have been free! I would have been free, my sister would have been free, all of our kind too! You would have been free. Don’t you want that? Yet you continued serving Pendragons. You thwarted so many of my plans, probably even more than I know of. Why? Why would you do that for a man that hates you with every fibre of his being? Why did you betray our kind?!”

“I AM NOT SERVING HIM ANYMORE!” He screamed out. He was angry. Angry with himself, with destiny and life for making him hurt so much. But most of all, he was totally furious with Arthur. And he didn’t realise it until now. Until he noticed how only the _thought_ of serving that “man” made him trembling with rage and disgust.

“He found out about me. He saw me growing strawberries for the girl I love. Just two strawberries.”

Merlin was seeing just how _unfair_ it all was.

“He dragged me back to the castle, hit me, yelled at me. It was Arthur who send me here, to suffer!”

Merlin now saw that there was nothing he could do better; he saw what Arthur Pendragon did to him. How could they be friends? Friends don’t stab each other in the back after all, not without reason. Isn’t that what Pendragon king did? He didn’t even let Merlin explain.

“He said I betrayed him, he didn’t let me explain that every thing I did, every crime and every act of good will, I did to give him the chance to become he king I believed he would be. King that would unite all lands under one banner, who would bring Golden age. The Once and Future King prophecies promised, the one who will finally give us our freedom!”

Merlin was breathing heavily from the tirade. The understanding dawned at him. Week ago, he would have forgiven Arthur Pendragon anything – the king have been betrayed by people he trusted, the king has hard life, the king is a good man. But now he saw him with eyes of stranger: Arthur Pendragon was man like any other. His life had its hard moments like any other. Yet he treated his best friend like dirt – he ignored his advices, he threw him down, he didn’t let him _explain_. He hurt him just for a belief of dead father who never shown him apprehension or love. The things Merlin gave him on silver tray just to make him happy.

Of all, Arthur Pendragon should know very well that family doesn’t mean everything.

Merlin was dived so deep in his swirling emotions he didn’t notice spark in Morgana’s eye.

“The Once and Future King… prophecy… You – you are Emrys. My destiny and my doom. You!”

“Not anymore.”

_Yes, that feels about right_ , Merlin thought. _She is no longer my enemy. The only thing she ever were was **his** enemy. And after all, we are both monsters, aren’t we? Murdering and destroying in false beliefs. And I no longer feel like killing my own kind._

“What?”

“Not anymore. The destiny, the prophecies, they are dead. Pendragon killed them. I have given him everything I had, my magic, my friends, everything I was and he threw it on the floor and walked on it until anything but dust was left.

He rejected me, rejected Emrys.

He is not the Once and Future King. It’s just a fairy-tale for druids and those who lost all hope. If it ever were something more, he destroyed it.”

The silence in the cell was final. The decision has been made. The fate changed. But there, in the little cold room, was only silence. Young dragon unfolded her tail and wrapped it kindly around the drained boy. It gave him some comfort in his despair. Because that is what he was: just a little broken boy with golden eyes and coal black hair that had been caught by Bloodied Knights. And had no idea what was going to happen now. He was slightly trembling. Not even him knew why.

“What happened to the girl?” Asked the child on the other side of the cell. She was confused and sad. She was in the darkness for too long.

“What girl.”

“The one you love. The one you loved so much you risked magic in front of her. The one you trusted more than me.”

That bit still hurt. But at least that sentence didn’t have any real bite in it. It was said just to make the impression. The black-haired girl with golden eyes couldn’t be really that angry with the broken boy anymore. The poor thing hurt so much he wouldn’t notice, if she added little pain. And maybe, maybe, he didn’t even deserve it.

“She is dead. She was for a long time.

Arthur killed her even before the knights of Medhir came. She was cursed and a druid – a death sentence. She liked strawberries. I didn’t manage to get her some ’til she was already dead.” Merlin mumbled, his head bowed. Another tear made its way down his cheek.

Morgana didn’t say anything about it.

Aithusa just pulled both humans she considered her siblings closer to her warm body and prayed for some light in the future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Should I write something about what is happening in Camelot?  
> I have no idea what that would be I thought more about Merlin-Morgana-Aithusa line of story than Arthur-Camelot-Gwen... Or maybe Mordred-Gwaine-Daegal...  
> Now would probably be good time to start on this, when there isn´t so much drama in Amata...


	9. Of Departures and the Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gwaine, Mordred (and Daegal) ride out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay.
> 
> I edited a bit (again) (but this time just a teeny tiny bit) and in chapter 6, all the teory ( :) )is not something Merlin read sometime ago, but something Mordred told him. It just better suits the story better and it is totally not important.

Mordred and Gwaine were absolutely furious. When they arrived to the cell and found no Merlin, it swept through their hearts _._

* * *

 _Where is, where is he, where is he?_ \- they asked _._ Cold damp air said, their only witness, said nothing.

* * *

With last strands of hope they rode out of Camelot and searched for any lead to where their brother might have gone.

* * *

 _Maybe we can still track him_ – they hoped with all their souls. But earth, freshly washed in raindrops of sky’s tears, didn’t give them any.

* * *

Whoever abducted the cheeky warlock knew how to hide their footprints. All marks of the captors’ existence disappeared one mile behind the walls of the lower town. As if they opened wings and flew away.

Where? The knights could only wish they knew.

  


Now that all the chances of finding their friend reached cold zero, the anger made itself known. Merlin obviously was in the cells. The neckerchief was proof of that – nobody but him would dare to wear such hideous scarves. And the only one who could put Merlin behind the bars was Arthur.

And whoever took the servant? There was no chance they could have done so without king knowing. Why did Arthur let them? Was it him who called them to do the dirty work?

By the looks of the cell Merlin didn’t leave it on his free will. If the abductors had good intentions, wouldn’t they give him time to pick up his beloved neckerchief? And how did the smashed strawberries fit into the game?

  


“Who the hell princess thinks he is?” Gwaine crushed those words between his teeth like they were stones somebody forced him to eat. His whole body was trembling with anger, hand spasming around the hilt of his sword. He looked like he had to spend all of his strength and willpower on not running into king’s quarters and threatening Arthur, with words and steel, if he didn’t give good enough explanation.

Mordred didn’t feel like stopping him. He was quite sure his magic would help in holding the Pendragon king down while Gwaine warmed poker in the fireplace.

* * *

Merlin may have been distrustful to Mordred at the beginning, but that wasn’t surprising. He was a new knight, unknown background, all the reasons to dislike the king. Not somebody unlikely to try to take revenge on Pendragon family. But Merlin was still one of Mordred’s kind. Most druids don’t have magic and if they do, it’s weak. There are healers, plant-growers and few propeths in their ranks, but that’s all. Young Mordred was the exact opposite: a powerful and uncontrollable force, more often used to accidentally bring destruction than not. They all may have the same tattoos, but Mordred was never truly one of them.

On the other side, he held lot of similarities with Emrys. They were both warlocks; though Merlin exceeded Mordred by far cry in raw power. What Mordred lacked in strength and control, he balanced by his superior knowledge of the old ways and of sword fight. And he was good teacher. Month into joining the Camelot knights, Mordred couldn’t bare distrustful looks from the older magic user and approached Merlin with a truce: he informed the servant he had no ill intention towards Camelot, her king or her people and offered to share his knowledge. He admired Emrys and if he could do anything to lighten the burden of destiny on his shoulders, he would do it.

Merlin little haltingly agreed on the deal and both of them settled in comfortable friendship soon. Mordred would tell Merlin about various traditions of Druids and Old religion, their culture. He was shocked how little Emrys knew – he was the greatest of their kind, their _symbol_ , their _legend_. How could he not know? Though, when Mordred thought about it, it made sense. Every and any magical knowledge could get man burnt in king Uther’s times. But with tyrant gone, Mordred was more than happy to fill in Merlin’s gaps.

They both grew fond of their lessons. After some time, Merlin began to open up. He talked about his childhood, all the mischief he had done with nothing but little blasts of magic. Mordred found even more similarities between them – Merlin too was a bastard child, society evading him with only few exceptions. Mordred had Cara, Merlin had Will.

Both their childhood friends were dead.

The remaining ice was broken. What came afterwards was a waterfall. Merlin started to share what he had done for Arthur. He told tales of magic, betrayal and hurt, the pain and hope pouring out of him like a river. Because Mordred was like him, because he could understand and would listen. Because he held it in for far too long. Lessons about history of magic-kind became bit by bit therapy sessions for the warlock. He has seen, done and felt one thing too many. And Mordred was there to hold the older boy in his arms when the past squeezed tears out of tired eyes.

* * *

And now, their beloved king betrayed Merlin. Mordred couldn’t even begin to understand what it must have done with Emrys’s heart: the very reason of his painful existence turned his back on him and threw him to crows, for them to eat what was left.

All the tears fallen in vain, all the heartbreaking acts done for nothing. And the Druid knight knew better than anybody how much Merlin done in Arthur’s name. His stories didn’t let him sleep at night.

  


“Lets ask _princess_ himself than.” Mordred drawled out. His hand firmly gripped pommel of his sword. His vulnerable brother was somewhere in the dark, betrayed and broken. Somewhere out of reach of any helping hand.

Mordred was out for a kill.

**ΞІ†‡ф‡†ІΞ**

Meanwhile Arthur was sitting at his dining table, absent-mindly staring at white sheet of parchment. It should contain a speech, and it should contain it by the morning. How was he supposed to do this? Writing his speeches was Merlin’s job.

Suddenly the door flew open without knocking, banging against the frame. Sirs Mordred and Gwaine ran in. Gwaine had his sword unsheathed and ready for the attack. _Was there intruder in the castle? Why aren’t the warning bells ringing?_

“What is-“

“What have you done to Merlin?” Gwaine screamed out, pointing his weapon on the startled monarch. He was breathing heavily from rage and didn’t look like he had sympathies for troubled kings. The tip of his blade was trembling uncomfortably close Arthur’s neck.

_Was it from rage, exhaustion or tears?_

“Nothing! He- he died! Bandits murdered him! Now, _sir_ Gwaine, I command you to-” Arthur stood up from where he was sitting. He was a king, he had some dignity and his knights were supposed to _respect_ him. They always did, before _Mer_ lin came along. Things will probably have to return back to their old tracks.

He was the leader. Nobody should oppose to him.

But…

_Did they find out? How? What do they know?_

  


“Don’t lie to us, _Pendragon_. We know you locked him up. Where is he now?” Arthur had never seen the young druid so furious. It took some self-convincing to not think of the _boy_ as scary. _Pendragon_. Wasn’t he called _sire_ and _my lord_ just this morning?

“What have you done?” Mordred said in soft, trembling voice. He was terrified of what he might hear.

  


King Arthur Pendragon was tired. Tired of lying, of life, of Merlin’s absence. What happened to the world? It was fine yesterday.

He felt dull. No emotion could fully come forward. Merlin dug hole in his chest, took his heart out and ran away. What was left was shattered by his own lies. Nothing was left but a broken king. And he felt so empty he didn’t even care.

  


“I have done what I had to.”

“What does that mean? What really happened?”

And Arthur told them everything. He told them of golden eyes, of darkness and the lake. He told them about rage, revenge and of what felt _right_.

He told them about king Sarrum and Amata.

  


Both of them watched him with disbelieving wide eyes. Both of them looked at him with anger, terror and pity. They pulled their red cloaks off and threw them at king’s feet. Arthur didn’t hear what they were saying. The silence was too loud.

  


They turned around as one man and walked out of his chambers. The door was left open, inviting cold air in. He was alone once more.

All he have done, all he _could_ have done, was turn around towards his window. He watched as some of his most loyal knights rode out of the city and to the darkening horizon. One of _Merlin’s_ most loyal knights.

He stood there staring out of the window until the night has fallen upon his saddened kingdom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a new prompt in ma head.  
> It is absolutely fantastic (though author says this about every single idea he has...) and I don´t know if I should sit on it until I finsh this story, or risk it and try to write two things at once.  
> I will probably wait, but still...


	10. Of a Boy whose Heart was a Sun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here it goes.  
> I am sorry fo the delay (person can be late, even if they don´t have a timetable...)
> 
> But it is two times longer than normally and contains Aithusa´s POV.  
> So.
> 
> My conscience is clean :)

Far away, in Amata, one cell door opened. Aithusa sadly looked up from where she was resting her head. They came for them. The only question now was: Which of the triple was going to be dragged out to the bad men? She didn’t know what happened then. They never took her. But that didn’t apply for the long-haired-human-friend-Morgana. When she was returned to the dark little room, she was hurting. Her black clothes hid some of her blood, but Aithusa had seen the tears. Whatever the bad men did, it was evil.

And the young dragon-girl didn’t like it.

  


But it wasn’t friend-Morgana, or Aithusa, that tugs were directed to. They walked over to the sleeping form of short-haired- _dragonlord_ -Merlin-Emrys and kicked him into awareness. They pulled out wrong-feeling-iron-cuffs, like those long-haired-human-Morgana had, but not attached to anything and snapped them around his wrists. They laughed merrily when his breath hitched. _Laughing on someone feeling-bad isn’t nice_ , Aithusa decided. Her moral-education didn’t cover human-policies. The-Great-one-Kilgharrah didn’t have time for that.

All he had time for was to say: Keep away from humans!

And look where she was now.

  


The bad people unbound friend-Merlin-the-Dragonlord from the wrong-feeling-chains and pulled him up. Than they walked through the small door and shut the offending peace of wood behind them.

_I really hope big-brother-Emrys-the-Dragonlord comes back. Maybe it will be less boring in here. And big-sister-Morgana-the-Pendragon could have a new friend. They are both good humans, aren’t they?_

**ΞІ†‡ф‡†ІΞ**

They took ~~Merlin~~ Emrys away about hour ago. Morgana was confused. Why did he tell her all about the poison, about keeping his magic secret? And about Arthur betraying him? Was he lying? Was it all a trick?

She didn’t think so. And she hated it. _I shouldn’t trust that easily! Especially not him, after all he kept from me, after all he had done to me!_

But it made sense – Merlin, being Emrys. The old man was always informed too well, like he had a very nosy and observant spy in the castle itself. And Merlin was always there, or nearby, eyes sliding over her like those of the bird of prey he was named after, watching the priestess, a little mouse. Little animal, which doesn’t know the true predator can swipe it off the face of the Earth any time he wishes.

Whenever something magical or abnormally lucky happened for Camelot’s advantage.

Whenever her plans fell apart under her hands. Without explanation. Without a word. Without as much as a shadow of that _somebody_ , who set their mechanics loose.

  


And if he felt guilty, it would explain why she was still alive.

For the guilt would be what killed him, if he finished his act.

Merlin.

Emrys.

And than all of this was thrown away.

She had seen the tears in Merlin’s eyes. _It suits Arthur Pendragon all too well, to turn his back on his best friend after finding out he has magic. He did the same with his own blood after all._

Emrys’s world had ended. But he was still alive. He either had to built a new one or let the nature selection bury him with all the weak.

His only building blocks were one white dragon, who was nearly a stranger to him, and his greatest mistake, his enemy. But, were they really enemies?

The thing that threw them on opposite sides took a step back. Merlin no longer served Arthur. He was alone.

Morgana and Emrys shared a cell now and in the dark times to come, they are going to share pain, darkness and tears.

  


Maybe destiny punished him enough.

Maybe they were both broken enough to be forgiven.

Maybe they could be friends again.

Maybe this was the chance they were both secretly longing for.

**ΞІ†‡ф‡†ІΞ**

Bad men returned. They had Merlin-brother-Emrys with them. He was hurt. Aithusa felt his pain through their bond. It made her angry and sad. Why did the bad man hurt her dragonlord? He wasn’t mean to them. Is it just something bad men do for fun? Like flying when you don’t need to hunt? She was really looking forward to moment she learned how to talk. Than, she will tell the bad men to stop hurting her big siblings.

  


He landed with his face towards the floor, hands stuck in wrong-feeling-iron-manacles under him. The bluish cloth on his back had red-purple colour.

It was full of long rips. Claw marks? What kind of dragon would want to hurt her dragonlord?

**ΞІ†‡ф‡†ІΞ**

Whip marks. Merlin’s back was covered in whip marks. Morgana didn’t bother trying to count. It was too much bloody mess to distinguish between what was injured and uninjured flesh. All she could say was, that the wounds were not life threatening. Unless infection sets in.

Oh how she changed. The noble lady she used to be in Camelot had no idea of how gruesome can the life outside of the court be. Living on her own resources taught her a lot, but the memories of comfortable life as King’s ward made themselves known far too often.

She didn’t like to admitit, but it was one of the things that drove her in her obsession with Camelot’s throne. She longed for her old life. But Morgana knew there was no chance they would take her back after all she had done. So she tried to take it by force.

She was never cut out for poverty.

  


Merlin grunted from he was lying face down on the floor. Morgana froze. How was he still conscious? His wounds looked terrific. And from what she remembered from when Uther practised public floggings, most men fainted much earlier. Even those much stronger than lanky Merlin.

And she doubted those marks were formed during time he wasn’t in his full senses. Those people whipped him for fun, not as punishment. She knew all too well from her last visit. Her back still hurt, though she could tell it wasn’t nearly as bad as Merlin’s.

She was even more awed when he pushed himself up, hissing in the silence. He was sitting now, with his side propped against the rough wall. His back faced the door, so she didn’t see it anymore. For that she was grateful. Morgana briefly thought about offering help. It would be a good peace offering. If any of them wanted to get out of there, they will need each other. And afterwards… who wouldn’t want Emrys himself on their side? Sarrum and Amata should pick themselves up and run as fast as they can the moment the three of them escape this prison.

 _If_ they escape.

And somewhere deep inside of her, part of her admitted she missed the companionship between Merlin and her.

But… what could she do for him? She was bound and powerless.

**ΞІ†‡ф‡†ІΞ**

_Huh. I must have fallen asleep._ Merlin didn’t remember food being brought in. Sarrum’s men came back. It was the door slamming into the wall that woke him. They steeped over him and Aithusa and continued walking deeper into the cell. Towards Morgana.

They were going to drag her off, to king Sarrum. To be tortured.

She would have never been there if it wasn’t for him. If he hadn’t turned her against Camelot, she would be nice and save between the castle walls. Maybe he would be there too. Maybe they would be both free.

“Stop.”

“What did you say you whelp?” laughed the man on the left. They had already unlocked Morgana from the wall. He looked him in the eyes. They were ecstatic. Those eyes were looking forward to the priestess’s pain.

“I said stop. You can take me in stead.”

“What?!” Morgana yelped out, surprised. Merlin didn’t look at her. His decision was made. He owed her that much.

“And why should we want to take you, _boy_. We had fun with you few hours ago.” Grinned the man on the right.

 _They see this as a game_ , Merlin thought. _They play with their prisoners’ hearts. Or at least they think so, anyway. They are just men taken off the street who like people whirling and begging for forgiveness. Such people never now how to play the true game. They don’t have the delicacy and patience. They never do._

_Good for me. That leaves me as the real player._

  


“And you have seen how much I can withstand. I lasted longer than you – you got bored and I didn’t even loose consciousness. And yet here I am, after just few hours, with enough strength to kick back. She is just a broken woman. Wouldn’t it be more fun? Trying to break _me_? You have seen my scars. That little thing on my back? That is _nothing_ compared to pain I already endured. So, are you up to _real_ , challenge? Or are you just going to take a _girl_ and hope she will scream prettily before she faints in the middle of your fun?”

Merlin thought about the irony of it. He called Morgana Pendragon a _fragile broken woman_. If she was broken, he was grinded into the pile of sand. That worked for him: there was little damage their captors could do to him.

So he just acted so fierce and proud they could never guess.

  


“Somebody is full of himself, eh? You would’ve probably swooned before we even had time to show you our playthings.”

“Full of myself? Than prove me wrong. And do I look like somebody _weak_? Sure, I am not all muscles like you lot, by I didn’t survive sercet sting just by counting butterflies. Do you really think such little poking you are doing can _hurt_ me?”

_Yes, make yourself sound arrogant, make them want to put you down, to throw you in the mud. Just act like Arthur – that should make anybody angry in few minutes._

“Oh, you have no idea, do you, boy? Ya think you know the pain? We will show you, you whelp. Moran,” man on the right turned to his companion,”lets take this one. I think he needs to be taught some _manners_.” At the end of the speech, evil smirk plastered itself on man’s face. They locked shocked Morgana back to wall and grabbed Merlin.

  


When he was sure nobody could see him, Merlin smiled bitterly to himself.

_Emrys – 1, Sarrum – 0_

_The game is on._

**ΞІ†‡ф‡†ІΞ**

Morgana was staring at the wall. _Merlin convinced the captors to take him in stead of her. He is taking **her** torture._ After everything that happened to them, he was _protecting_ **her**.

_Oh my Goddess._

If she had any doubts about his truthfulness they were gone now. There was no way they were deserved. And how could she doubt the man, who sacrificed himself to spare her the pain. Not even her most loyal soldiers, back when she had an army, would have done such feat on their own volition. And now, she was safe, thanks to kindness of her enemy. Well, ex-enemy with no self-preservation, that is.

  


She and Aithusa waited for approximately another two hours, before the men returned, Merlin slumped between them. On his chest, there were hundreds of small crisscrossing bloody lines. Most of them were concentrated on the left – above where his heart was. It was as though their captors tried to imitate sun: one point full of light emitting the weaker beams. It was terrifyingly fitting: Merlin’s heart was a Sun. Happiness used to shine out of it. That was something their mortal captors couldn’t imitate. So they changed it:

Merlin’s heart was a Sun. the blood it was pumping was its light and Merlin’s body was his personal sky. And they made sure it shone for everyone to see.

  


Morgana felt sick.

  


They threw him on the floor, without care. They had their fun after all.

The door closed once again. _To hell with bound hands_ , Morgana cursed in her head. On the outside, she asked:

“Aithusa? Could you please move him to me?”

The young dragon enthusiastically obliged, happy to help her brother. There was sadness and fear in little lizard’s moves. She moved her protector’s body with gentle care and laid him down on his back. Morgana moved her legs until his head rested on her lap. She started humming a lullaby she heard from a druid she passed during her travels.

The boy whose heart was a Sun opened his stormy blue eyes. He blinked up at her. Small smile crossed his face. Than his lids started falling. He turned to hi side and his breath evened out. Aithusa spread her wing over him as a blanket as he succumbed to uneasy sleep.

  


Morgana didn’t stop her humming until she herself has fallen into the dark abyss.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is my first try in digital art.   
> Did Morgana forgive Merlin too easily?  
> Should it take longer?  
> By the way, I am finising this past the midnight, again. Sorry for any excessive grammar mistakes.
> 
> Also, I have some info: from the day after tomorow (=from 13.7.) I am going off-line for two weeks. So, maybe I will write something tomorow, but if I don´t, than this is the last time you have heard from me for - long time.  
> But I am not abandoning this.


	11. Of Hell Inside, of Hell Outside and of Hell on the Horizon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Few weeks later...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am realy sorry for the lateness.  
> I was stuck and couldn´t think of what to write in this chapter.  
> But finally, here it is! :)
> 
> Warning: contains some brief describtion of torture (which was too fun to write to not be concerning)

Mordred and Gwaine stopped their horses a league before the castle of Amata. Its surrounding was scarily similar with the one in Camelot – the lower town, the forest, the fields. But the citadel itself was different in many ways: the stone it was made of wasn’t whitish, its colour was something between dark grey and black. The towers were less burly and there were dozens of them. Instead of growing straight towards the sky, like any other human built strucutres, they twisted and turned in zig-zags, symmetrical and asymmetrical, organised and chaotic, all at once.

The fortress looked like a hedgehog – a rather large base, from which many sharp thorns were protruding in all directions.

But to be fair, at least their tips were always looking straight towards the heavens.

* * *

It certainly left impression. Wherever of devil’s summer resort, crazy architect or joke of landscape that went wrong, depended on who looked at it. Daegal for example (from what Mordred told him about passing reliefs) thought, that if this castle was a food, it would became one of the most popular poisons in known world.

Mordred just laughed at his theory and in his own head speculated, if such ideas came from being dead or being teenager.

Gwaine was just too sober to think about weird buildings.

* * *

It was about one month since they left Camelot. They could have been there in a _week_ , but bandit-invested roads slowed them down significantly. It was all too convenient – the tugs were organized and there were so many of them. Was there some pact between the king and those criminals? It would certainly a clever move, even if little dishonourable. But fairness certainly wasn’t something Sarrum was known to have.

But even with those complications, they were finally here. This was the city their friend was held in. They just hoped that he was alright.

Even though they knew they were too late for that.

Merlin stopped being alright the moment he had seen his king’s face on the banks on the lake of Avalon.

**ΞІ†‡ф‡†ІΞ**

Merlin woke up in the cell once again. He didn’t know how many days went by in the dark of the little dirty room. The only way to measure it was the pain. They came for him three more times. He got drowned, punched and burned.

* * *

_Merlin remembered his head being held under the surface, his body giving up, whirling in the grip of his captors, icy water rushing in waves into his burning lungs. It did not cool them down. Nor did it manage to stop him screaming out. But all that was heard were the silent bubbles in the water._

_Merlin remembered bones in his left arm breaking like dropped dishes. Oh, how many pots had he broken with his clumsiness. How many times had the hammer fallen on his forearm._

_At the end, he thanked the Triple Goddess with everything he had that clay bowls couldn’t cry. The tugs just looked at each other and dragged him back to the cell without a word._

_Merlin remembered the hot iron, pressing against his calves, the burned flesh creating black smoking bracelets around his ankles. Sarrum’s men said they were prettying him up, so the Death wouldn’t run away from the disgust his kind was. They said they were doing him mercy._

_Merlin remembered thinking about the irony of it: after all, the burns rather matched the state his magic was in. The little star in him was growing, more and more energy was born in him and pushed away from the cuffs into the ball inside. Merlin thought that maybe, maybe, his little Sun will be the one to kill him at the end. His own magic. A fitting fate for a traitor._

* * *

They also came three more times for Morgana. He managed to save her from two.

* * *

_There was screaming. Another nail was pushed into his thigh. Why were they sticking nails in him? He wasn’t peace of wood. Merlin was confused. Should he ask them? Maybe after he had a quick nap…_

_Amatians pushed salt into his wounds. Why did everything feel like fire? Was the pyre catching up with him?_

* * *

The third time he tried to help Morgana, he was too tired to open his mouth. When he managed to croak out his little plea, the whisper of _stop, take me in stead_ , the tugs just laughed and kicked him into ribs. She was thrown back with her two biggest toes missing. They didn’t even bother with tying either of them to the wall. _At least she will have unique footprint, should she ever walk barefoot on the sand_ , told Merlin Aithusa when the little dragon-girl started crying.

He held Morgana in his arms as she fell asleep. He held her pushed against his chest when she was whirling in nightmare. He cradled his fingers through her hair when she woke up with tears in her eyes. He tried to sing one of the songs his mother taught him – Aithusa thought the way he was so out of tune was hilarious. It was one of the moments all three of them sincerely laughed.

Right now, Merlin woke up into what he in his misted mind called interim period – neither of them was taken to the torture room. They were left to rot in the darkness in boredom and hunger. All three of them were curled together. Aithusa’s torso served as a pillow for the hugging pair of humans and her wing was pulled over them as a blanket. It was setting they established sometime around Merlin’s third torture session. In the big ball of sharp elbows and other raised bones they could all share the scarce body heat in otherwise cold dungeon. It was also easier to comfort each other in their regular nightmares.

Even Aithusa was starting to have them.

What they dreamed about was left unsaid. They knew better then to ask.

Merlin opened his eyes. The little food they were given for breakfast or diner or whatever day meal it was time for already laid by the door. _Ugh_. Another round of arguing over who will get how many.

Merlin thought Morgana should get most of it, because his slightly magical nature could sustain him for some time without food. Especially now, that there weren’t any other ways to vent the energy burning in him. Injuries were too near surface for his magic to venture.

Morgana meanwhile thought Merlin should get most of it as he was the one more injured.

Aithusa was just sadly gazing on peace of hard bread, dreamed about fresh meat and wandered if such pathetic stony peace was worth of such heated debate.

All in day’s order.

**ΞІ†‡ф‡†ІΞ**

Gwaine and Mordred booked a room in tavern called _Witch’s Head_. It was sad place, but still enough.

Tomorrow, they will start snooping around.

Tomorrow, they will hopefully find more about where Merlin is.

Tomorrow, they will be one step closer to their dear friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, I am leaving for another two weeks offline after tomorow.  
> So I will be silent.  
> But I am still not abandoning this.


	12. Of Kings and Queens, of their Kingdoms and their Crowns

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am back!  
> I had this already writen, but I forgot to download it rightly, so instead of 1k of words there was only half of the first senence in the draft. Also disapeared whatever I was going to write to the notes.  
> So.
> 
> The End.

Gwaine’s back hit the dirty mattress. The tavern wasn’t the worst he had ever visited, but it wasn’t a comfortable castle either. And the name – Witch’s head… Even in Camelot with all its anti-magic stances nobody would name their establishment like this.

He and Mordred agreed to crush here for a night and use the opportunity to snoop around during the dinner. Cheap taverns were the kingdoms of ordinary people, after all. And gossiping townsfolk was the greatest spy-net of the world. And with some luck, they will even have a decent mead.

“What do you know about Amata?” asked Mordred from the cot on the opposite side of the small room. He had concentrated expression on his face and he was playing with his necklace. Gwaine noticed he was doing this a lot. While they were travelling, the long-haired knight questioned the druid about it. But all he got out of the youngster was a mysterious smile and few words in language he couldn’t understand. Whatever it was, it probably wasn’t worth the mead that would be needed to get Mordred drunk in order to make him spill his dirty secrets.

“Not much. I was there few times – village or five near the border, even here, in the capital, once. They don’t like strangers much. They sit on their tongues and the only cure to that is a strong drink. From what I heard the king is not popular by far cry, but he has a strong army of enslaved soldiers. Farmers rather die from starvation than stand up against the sky high taxes or recruiters.”

Mordred sat up and tilted his head consideringly to the side.

“I don’t know much, only the horror stories about capturing magic-users. How much of them are true?” said Mordred. He sounded hopeful, but it looked like he was scared of what he might hear. Gwaine didn’t even want to know what kind of tales are running between the magic-folk.

King Sarrum eats magical babies.

King Sarrum is the devil himself.

King Sarrum is Your Death.

Gwaine didn’t want to know how many children were living in the terror of the images of what would happen if they were caught. How many of them woke up screaming from nightmare.

Nightmares were dangerous. In Gwaine’s opinion they were the true kingdoms of despair. And Sarrum was one of their cruelest rulers.

In real life you can die once. Dreams don’t bother with such limitation.

“Ah, yeah, the magic,” said the sad knight,”another reason why most Amatiens hate Sarrum. I am sure you heard the tales of the magical kingdom of Sion?”

Everyone knew them. To Uther Pendragon it was the epitome of evil. To ordinary people an unbelievable legend – both scary and amazing. To druids in particular it was the first Golden age, the idea of how Albion was supposed to be like – magic’s earthly Heaven.

A land where magical and non-magical folk lived alongside each other - using their skills and craft in combinations that stole breath from foreign merchants. It was the centre of magical community and the earth and the water were said to be so full of raw magic they had their own life, personality and emotions. Ponds reached out over their banks, to pet lovingly their favourite humans when they walked by. Trees threw their sweetest apples on sad people, to make them smile. Even lone cold stones had a warm heart – if asked nicely, they helped children to play pranks on their parents.

Who lived there was never hungry, its rulers were just, fair and loved, chosen by the wisest stars of the night sky themselves. There were the most majestic temples of high priestesses and even proud dragons came down from heavens and lived with humans as their companions and teachers.

The kingdom of Sion supposedly disappeared about hundred years ago. In last wave of magic, its location was deleted from minds and maps.

“Sion was supposed to be in Amata. Or so the locals believe.”

“What, no way? How?” Mordred yelped out with wide eyes.

“Today’s Amatiens are the ancestors of the people of the great Sion. Even Sarrum – it is the only reason they let him be born.

The story says that to royal magical family of magical kingdom was born a non-magical boy. He wasn’t the heir – he had two older brothers, both strong in their powers and their bodies. They tolerated young Antigon, tried to be kind to him. But until then every member of royal family had been born with magic – if you didn’t have it, you couldn’t rule. He didn’t have the same rights as his brothers and in his loneliness he thought it was because they hated him for the way he was born.

He thought about it, about the other non-magical people of his kingdom and he decided to free them.”

“Of what? Nobody was doing anything to them! Sion was perfect kingdom for everyone!” said Mordred, outraged. But his magic already knew the answer. It still mourned its lost brothers, even after hundred years.

“To free them of magic users, who would look down on them because destiny hadn’t given the power to move mountains and upturn rivers. To protect the weak from the strong. The royal family was supposed to be chosen by the nature itself, as the best of the best. _If the Chosen ones themselves were capable of to act so unjustly, what about ordinary people?_ he thought. He loved his people so much he overthrew his own family in order to give them of what he thought as safety.”

_The road to Hell is paved with good intentions._

“But that doesn’t make sense, nobody wanted to hurt him!”

“Maybe they did, maybe they did not. Whatever happened was overrun by the tides of time,” sighted Gwaine, ”only whispered legends lasted. Anyway, Antigon charmed his way through the neighbour-hooding rulers and got himself an army. He took over his own home, exiled his family and renamed the eternal kingdom of Sion to Amata, the kingdom without repercussion. Yet human-magic was strictly restricted and the raw magic of the world started to leave the land.

People weren’t happy about it, but they have seen how much he loves them. How much he is doing for them. He was the best ruler they remembered, just and kind in everything but magic. So they stayed silent, hoping that the next ruler would see some sense.”

“But they didn’t,” mumbled Mordred.

“No, people’s tales say they didn’t. After Antigon ruled his son Quesander, who only tightened the bonds magic had on itself. All fairness the family had in itself died and Quesander ruled quite selfishly. Than was born his son Acapunt. He was the one to ban magic absolutely. The witch-hunts were started by his first born Ladical, Sarrum’s father. And I think you know our _dearest_ excuse of king updated magic’s suffering.”

Gwaine spitted out his last words. He thought of Arthur while saying the last sentence. _Oh, how can crown spoil the heads it sets its claws in. Yet people are standing in queues long as time itself, just to put it on._

Gwaine was happy to be one of those left free. The only crown he ever cared for was the one nature gave him – a mop of brown hair jewelled with the sunlight. His cape was woven of dust particles belonging to the Earth itself, a little cloud behind his horses hooves as he ran on his path.

Gwaine was the best kind of king to live – he was king of his own.

Mordred shakily nodded from the opposing cot, and stood up.

“I think it is time for diner,” he said hastily and made his way towards the door with rusty hinges. It was clear he was trying to get his mind off the disturbing images of his childhood nightmares.

_KingSarrumeatmagicalbabies_

_KingSarrumisthedevilhimself_

_King Sarrum is Your Death._

This was one of the times Gwaine thanked all gods he could think of he didn’t have magic.

He too made his way to the door and towards the stairs, leading to the bar.

**ΞІ†‡ф‡†ІΞ**

“Have you heard of some new magic user Sarru- _king_ Sarrum captured recently?” asked Mordred drunk man he sat down next to. The diner was about the same as the whole tavern – good just enough to be better than nothing. But the drink was strong – the locals clearly needed to forget their troubles often and properly.

“Magic user? Ye’, of course, there is always some.”

“What about the one most recent.”

“Uh? Oh, ye’. There was tha’ girl from Mercia or whate’er. Already dead. Poor child. But still lucky she got out without worse. May she be happy up in the Heavens.” The man send glowing false grin in direction of the table where few soldiers were sitting. His eyes were murderous even over the haze of strong alcohol _. Maybe Gwaine was right about Amatiens being tolerant with magic_ , Mordred thought.

“Only a girl? Anyone else?” he asked with a little hope.

“Well, there is tha’ chick from two months ago and some Cam -hick!-Camelotien from month ago. Poor guys.

Poor, poor, pooooooor.

Poor that they are still alive. Those are the only executions you aren’t angry enough to bring do’n the whooole world – when those lads have their suffering ended.”

Mordred shuddered.

They found Emrys.

But Merlin was probably already lost behind the horizon.

_The King of Smiles is dead._

_Long live the Magic._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what do you think?  
> Isn´t Sion a fitting name for a perfect kingdom?  
> And if name Antigon reminds someone of Old Greek tragedy written by Sophocles, called Antigone - it just happened. Like most of the other names.


	13. Of Cruel Comedy and its Actors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: quite graphic description of violence
> 
> For what its worth: I am sorry.

One night later, both knights lied in their cots. Their eyes were closed and their breathing even. But they weren’t asleep. Not tonight.

Gwaine smirked and petted his trusted sword, which he had hidden under his blanket.

They had a plan. And it was time to set it into motion.

**ΞІ†‡ф‡†ІΞ**

Morgana was once agian woken up by moaning hinges of their cell door. Two man came in. They were smiling in a way that never failed to make her uneasy – they always put those cold sneers on when something bad was coming. Like an extraordinary original torture. Or a new prisoner. Both guards were slightly tipsy, like after a generous cup of mead. What were they celebrating?

Morgana’s nervousness doubled.

Will their suffering last longer this time? Or will those drunk animals pass out in the middle of it?

She looked over to Merlin and Aithusa. They were both blearily waking up too. Whatever is going to happen, she will do anything in her power to make sure it doesn’t hurt them.

“Our dearest guests, we wish to apologise in the name of the Crown.” Said one in a grave voice.

_Wait, what?_

“We have neglected you and we are so sorry! We have given you tasteful meals, rich drinks and comfortable chamber, yet we have forgotten our most important duty as your hosts: to entertain you!”

The man who was not talking started silently giggling, like he couldn’t hold his laugh in any longer. Like this speech was the greatest comedy of the known world. And maybe it was. Maybe being imprisoned just stolen all of Morgana’s sharp humour. _What was hidden behind those words?_

“We are going to right this wrong in the closest moment. _Lady_ Morgana, his highness king Sarrum humbly invites you to watch the newest play of his personal acting group – us.”

The speaker’s smile widened. Sharp yellow teeth looked out of their pink lodge. They too were looking forward to the performance.

“Unfortunately, we are short of one member – our dearest friend was finally executed about free months ago. But we are sure your companion will be happy to help us out.”

The giggling man staggered forward and snatched Merlin from where he was lying on the floor.

“Wha-“ started Morgana, but than a hand switched her over her cheek. Both men burst out laughing.

**ΞІ†‡ф‡†ІΞ**

Mordred slowly pulled off his blanket. It was long since the dark started setting, long since all innocent citizens went to their hard cold beds for

few hours of sleep. Only bloodthirsty guards and desperate criminals were awake. Mordred didn’t know to which category he belonged.

But he was sure, that if he gets his hands on Sarrum’s men, blood will flood the castle in rivers.

It was time.

**ΞІ†‡ф‡†ІΞ**

Merlin was dragged along through several doors. Behind the last, there was a plain windowless room. The only things it contained were two chairs, about five feet distance between them, facing each other in a battle of wills only wood could ever execute so perfectly. With all its firmness. With all its sharp edges.

The guard led Merlin to one of those seats. He pulled out ropes from his pocket and bound Merlin’s hands to the armrests. The same was happening to Morgana, on the other side of the room.

“Well than, all is set!” said Morgana’s guard with sincere cheerfuness. “We wish you enjoy our performance!”

And then he started to talk.

 **ΞІ†‡ф‡†ІΞ**

Mordred and Gwaine quietly sneaked out of the _Witch’s head_. All of their things were already packed and loaded on their horses. At dawn, they will be either on run or on their way to the gallows.

They closed the door of the inn and made their way towards the castle.

**ΞІ†‡ф‡†ІΞ**

_“Once upon the time, there were two sorcerers.”_ the guard said. He and his companion were walking in circles around their chairs. The narator stopped behind Morgana.

 _“One of them was a lady,”_ he put his hands around the back of the chair so the were resting on Morgana’s chest, _”with hair darker then the deepest night…”_ he sharply tagged on her curls with one hand, while the other drifted upwords over her neck and face, stopping on her chin. His thumb started gently stroking her cheek.

_”… and eyes green as fresh foliage in moonlight. She was beautiful and beloved, a daughter of a great king, and nobody knew what vile magic was hiding behind her smile.”_

Second man stopped behind Merlin. He laid his hands on each side of boy’s face, fingers drifting into his hair.

 _“The other was a serving boy of raven-like curls,…”_ Merlin’s head was sharply snapped upwords, hitting the back of his seat, _”…with eyes like lakes, every girl who gazed in them drowned there. He was kind and beloved, a great friend, and nobody knew what evil art was hiding behind his jokes.”_

Both prisoner’s heads were dropped.

_“Those two hated each other, they were the only ones who knew the others crookedness. The lady had seen the servant poison his so called friend…”_ hands wound themselves around Merlin’s throat _._

 _”…when they weren’t looking and the servant had caught the lady trying to stab her own father to his gut.”_ Man punched Morgana in her stomach. Her body bent in half, but her captor pulled her back to sitting position.

The two men pulled away from their prisoners nad started circling them once again.

_“They fought and battled, neither winning for long. One day, the servant defeated the lady. Now that his greatest foe was out of the way he let his guard down. He didn’t notice young golden king watching him practissing his dark arts.”_

_“Young golden king had bound him and overcame his evil with his own goodness. He took the servant and send him to hell, to pay for his crimes.”_

The captors stopped once again. The narator was now behind Merlin. The great finale was near.

_“Here, both beaten and broken, the lady and the servant met once again._

_They continued their rivality for a while, but their strength was dimming in the hands of God’s soldiers._

_They started to pull each other to their hearts. They became close companions._

_They became weak._

_And do you know, what happens to the evil and weak?”_

The last question was said in stagewhisper. When nobody answered, the man behind Morgana caught her chin and warningly squeezed. So she shook her head.

The speaker fondly smiled and answered himself.

_“Nature punishes them.”_

And with that, he plunged his fingers into Merlin’s eye.

**ΞІ†‡ф‡†ІΞ**

Gwaine and Mordred sneaked behind the backs of the first watch. They were both tempted to kill them, but they knew it was not worth starting an alarm.

Shame. Maybe there will be an opportunity later.

The knights disapeared between the shadows.

 **ΞІ†‡ф‡†ІΞ**

All Merlin felt was a pain. He had seen half of his field of vision darken and then completely close. His world was violently cropped.

Somebody was screaming. Was it him? It sounded like Morgana. Maybe it was just a bird. There surely were some birds in the dungeon. Who else would weep over the prisoners? Humans are too busy plugging their ears.

Why did everything hurt? His eye (was it still an eye? Was it something more then lump of bleeding useless flesh? Merlin wasn’t sure), his throat, his old injuries, his chest…

…did they set his heart alight? It certainly felt like it was burning. His little Sun in darkness.

And than it exploded.

**ΞІ†‡ф‡†ІΞ**

**Emrys opened his remaining eye, looking around for the first time. His magic –his soul, Him – was free.**

**It was time to set his children in magic free too.**

**And maybe, maybe, He should show these heretics why should they not anger the real God.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, the school year starts!  
> I m afraid thatmy updates are going to be slightly disoriented. I am sorryif they come with big time differences.


	14. Of Emrys and Merlin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "For human eyes, Everything and Nothing are the same: too big to comprehend."  
> -Sunrise Blackwater

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is one of the reasons this story is tagged BAMF!Merlin and Dark!Merlin :)

Mordred was passing through the entrance hall, when he felt massive wave of _something_ rush through him. He gasped and stilled. He heard as Daegal's whole existence shivered and the bindings that kept it connected to the rune of Egiram pulsed with pure power.

_It’s Magic._ Mordred realised. Magic in such an enormous amount it burst through him, like he was nothing but a young fragile tree bend by livid hurricane - wild and untamed, ancient and sacred. He felt violent shivers pass up and down his spine, dancing to a song that created the Time. His eyes flickered with golden light against his will, as if his power wanted to say hello to its master.

He looked around. All sounds were paused, trying to comprehend what just happened.

Mordred reached out with all his senses, magical and non-magical.

And only then he felt it – the majestic presence, opening its wings down in the dungeon.

**ΞІ†‡ф‡†ІΞ**

**Emrys slowly got up from the plain wooden chair. Binds that held His hands uncoiled themselves in awe. Magic cuffs on His wrists melted in cold terror and flowed down off the armrests – drop by drop, tear after tear.**

**He turned his head in careful circle, His spine cracking as if He hadn’t moved it in centuries.**

**He slept too long.**

**No more.**

**ΞІ†‡ф‡†ІΞ**

Kilghrrah was in his cave, on the top of the White Mountains, when he felt the rush of gold run through him.

The magic of the world let out a squeal of happy laugher.

* * *

_**Emrys was more than just a warlock. He didn’t shape elements to suit his will.** _

_**When He thought his wishes, the nature stepped down from its eternal throne and fell on one knee. It smiled at Him and rewritten itself. It wanted for Him to be happy. It wanted for Him to be Great. For He was more than just a man.** _

_**He was son of the Earth, Sea and Sky, He was their brother, He was the one they hold dearest in their hearts. And He was them.** _

* * *

Arthur Pendragon crushed on his knees in the middle of the training field. _“… …My lord? …re you alrig…?”_

What is happening?

* * *

**He was _everything_.**

**Yet nothing was enough to be Him.**

**But that was alright. That was, how it was always supposed to be.**

* * *

**Emrys looked around. He noticed two guards, quivering by the wall where His magic threw them. His lips curved into the cruel smirk.**

**_Time to play._ **

**ΞІ†‡ф‡†ІΞ**

Morgana watched in trance as Merlin got up in absolute silence. Even the echoes of his screams held their breath.

He looked around. His left eye was turned into a black hole, it contrasted strongly with his pale skin. And so did the stream of dark red blood running down his cheek. And the other eye… It wasn’t human, not anymore: there was no white, blue or black, just a mass of swirling gold glow. A shining globe, obscuring the shadows on his face.

He was beautiful and terrifying. Powerful and blinding.

He was not Merlin. No, he was something more.

Morgana felt a sudden urge to bow. And she never bowed to anyone.

A cold smile suddenly appeared on his face. He was watching their sobbing guards.

**ΞІ†‡ф‡†ІΞ**

**Emrys was angry. Those man had shed blood of His children, His brothers and sisters. He saw it staining their clothes, He felt it dripping off their drenched souls.**

**_Ashes to ashes, dust to dust._ **

**They would be just that – a dust – if it weren’t for magic.**

**He blinked and the world complied.**

**ΞІ†‡ф‡†ІΞ**

Niel felt something wrap around his heaving torso. When he looked down he found tentacles made of stone that used to be the castle-wall. He only had time to take one sharp panicked gasp before his body was set alight.

It was certainly a fitting death for a magic-hater.

**ΞІ†‡ф‡†ІΞ**

**Emrys reached out. His will flicked through the castle, in search for His kin. The first to be found was the High Priestess. He snapped her binds and petted her magic – _Don’t worry, little one,_ He soothed it _, you are safe now_.**

**Then He stroked dragon girls head, tearing down the wall with little door that held her captive for so long. He directed her to the courtyard – they will meet there.**

**The edges of his consciousness tripped over another magic. It belonged to a young druid. The Bane of the Once and Future king. They will take him too, on the way to safety.**

**Emrys gently took hold of the Priestess's hand and then both of them disappeared in sudden whirlwind.**

**ΞІ†‡ф‡†ІΞ**

Gwaine jerked violently when two figures suddenly appeared out of thin air in front of him. He was even more surprised, when he saw _who_ it was.

His best friend. His clothing torn and bloody, his skin terribly scared and his eyes – no eyes, one eye – shining gold.

And Morgana Pendragon, her dress and face smeared with dirt, tears both fresh and dry on her cheeks. There wasn’t darkness in her eyes, like it used to be. They were clear and full of awe.

_What had those bastards done to them?_

Merlin looked him and smiled softly. Then he took a step. And another. He walked towards the gate with his head held high. Gwaine felt a tug deep in his chest. He grinned and let his feet and heart follow the Magic’s call.

**ΞІ†‡ф‡†ІΞ**

Mordred’s power was singing. Their party of five – Emrys, Morgana, Gwaine, Daegal and himself – stepped into the courtyard. The world of their escape must have spread out, because there was at least a hundred of soldiers waiting for them. Another twenty were standing in semicircle, cornering something with spears.

Mordred gasped – it was a white dragon.

**ΞІ†‡ф‡†ІΞ**

**Emrys watched the scene in front of them. _How dare they?_**

**He raised one hand in direction of the soldiers.**

**He wished and their necks snapped.**

**He started walking once again even before their bodies touched the ground.**

**ΞІ†‡ф‡†ІΞ**

The bad-men around Aithusa all suddenly collapsed. She looked around. The young-dragon-girl jumped up happily when she saw her lord and brother. He was going to take her and big-sister-Morgana away from here! She trotted after them to the lower town.

**ΞІ†‡ф‡†ІΞ**

**As Emrys walked between the old dirty human houses, He felt amazed eyes of his magical companions watch him in fascination.**

**They wanted to kneel at His feet, thinking they finally knew who He was. But no mortal or immortal eye could ever see enough to understand, to comprehend, to truly know, who was Magic itself. They were like children trying to figure out the mysteries of the universe.**

**Other people, the common Amatiens, stood in front of Him, eyes and mouth wide open, for they have never sighted such wander before. For He was everything and nothing and all at once, with the majesty and beauty he deserved.**

**And another people, the soldiers, lied behind Him, cold and lifeless carcasses. They have angered Him. They won’t do such mistake again.**

**And then there were no people. Only trees of the forest.**

**He had done it.**

**His children were safe now.**

**Emrys closed his eye and went back to sleep.**

**ΞІ†‡ф‡†ІΞ**

Merlin was conscious only long enough to feel his body fall into someone’s arms. Then he dived back into the darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Ashes to ashes, dust to dust" is quoth from Bible. It is a metaphor for the fact, that everything on the Earth has to come to an end one day. This phrase is usually said on funerals. At least hope it is the right one: in czech it is "Prach jsi a v prach se obrátíš", translated to "for dust you are and to dust you will return".
> 
> By the way, sorry it took so long to update. I honestly didn't know what to do with this chapter.


	15. Of Messengers and their Hearts

Arthur shook his head, trying to shake off the blurs that violated his eyesight. He knew he was kneeling in the middle of the training field, where he fell under the sudden onslaught of that weird _something_ that knocked him off his feet. He could feel mud and stomped down grass between his fingers and he still very well remembered the frustration that made him go destroy practise dummies in the first place.

Few hours ago, he went with his new manservant _(what was his name again? Robin? Colin? Merl-)_ on a hunt. The silence of the forest was unbearable. He caught seven rabbits, two pheasants and a grouse. It was the most successful hunt since – _he_ – came into his service.

Arthur missed his best friend.

But that still didn’t explain why he was kneeling on the damp ground with his eyes unfocused. He realised that even sound was unnatural – it was like he was underwater. When the young king thought about it, he noticed his whole body acted like he was on the bottom of a lake – his movement slow, his breathing stopped.

“Arthur Pendragon,” sounded a voice somewhere from his right. Arthur slowly turned his head and saw it came from a beautiful women. She was familiar, but he couldn’t remember from where. She had long brown locks, which were floating around her head in a big thorny crown, like hair tend to in calm water. She was dressed in rich gown of purple and dark blue, a clothing worth a princess.

“The thread of destiny has been cut off. Emrys has awakened and took the matters into his own hands. You are no longer the Once and Future King. That title is to be given to someone, who is worth it, should such man or woman be ever born, along with the sword forged in dragon’s breath you are in unrightful ownership of.” the lady said. Excalibur was torn out of his grasp. Arthur was about to take a deep breath to retort when he found out he couldn’t. As in slow motion his hands came up to clutch on his contracting throat. He was drowning in depths of the non-existent lake water.

The lady, seeing his discomfort, gave him small satisfied smirk and continued her speech.

“You have meddled with the plans of Fate, you harmed her most beloved child, you angered several gods… and for that the Old Religion curses you, Arthur Pendragon, you and those you prize above all – your kingdom, your friends and your family. When twentieth year reaches its peak and Camelot is in its greatest, the tides of luck will turn. You will lose all, as will all those you will care about. You will kneel in the feet of those you have betrayed, denied and broke, and your fate will be in their hands. This is the gift for them and the punishment for you. So mote it be.”

Arthur was clawing at his throat now, his lungs burning and begging for the smallest amount of air. His eyes were wide open and fully staring at the woman, who came few steps closer. She crouched down in front of his trembling body until they were looking each other in face.

“That much for Old Religion. I forgave you the fact that you killed me. But I will not forgive you what you have done to him. I promise.” She whispered and touched his cheek. Her hand was dripping cold water. Then she disappeared.

The world sped up until and the time started running in its normal tempo.

Sounds came into king’s focus. His man were fretting around him like worried women.

His vision sharpened.

Arthur took deep breath.

He touched his cheek.

His hand came back wet.

**ΞІ†‡ф‡†ІΞ**

Merlin was dreaming. He was sure of it – it was not possible Freya was there in any other way.

“Hello, my sweat falcon.”

“Hi, my dearest strawberrylover.”

They were standing knee deep in the lake of Avalon, few meters from the shore. Red light of dusk was throwing colourful reflections off the surface of the water. They were smiling and holding hands.

Merlin tilted his head and kissed her. She smiled and returned.

After few moments Freya pulled away.

“As much as I missed you, it is not the reason I am here. The Old Religion sends a message.”

“Of course it does.” said Merlin with a sigh. He didn’t let go of her hands though.

“It says you mustn’t try to enact revenge on Arthur.”

“What? Why? You know what he did, to me, to Morgana, to all those magic users! Yes, it was Sarrum that gave the orders to torture me and Morgana, but it was Arthur that threw me into his waiting arms. After everything I have done for him! After everything I have lost! He just-“

Freya reached out and put a finger on his lips to shush him.

“The Triple Goddess will take care of it. Arthur will live in prosperity and than he will lose it all. That is his punishment for shattering destiny old as earth itself. And only than you and Morgana and all he has ever wronged may do as you wish with him. Or so does the Old Religion say.”

“I… Alright. It’s not like I can rebel against the Old Religion, no matter how little I am fond of it. I- I will retell your message to Morgana and make sure it spreads through the magic folk. But for now… Please stay?”

“Of course, love.” Freya replied with a small smile.

And so they stayed, the water gently splashing around their feet, kissing and holding hands even as the sun in their dreamword fell over the horizon.

**ΞІ†‡ф‡†ІΞ**

But everything had to end.

Merlin woke up to the real world. His wounds were aching and all he wanted was to go back to sleep. His eyes opened and he found out he was lying in some sort of ruined stone building. He could see stars and tree tops above him instead of roof. The walls where hidden behind layers of lianas. There was a moss instead of the hard stone floor. There was no fire, the space was illuminated by a swarm of fireflies that were fluttering around like sparkles around flame. In the middle of the room there was small pond, still and calm, and the night sky was looking down on it as though it was a mirror.

It was a beautiful place.

Merlin could hear voices from the other side of the wall. He had to give Freya’s message to Morgana. He shakily stood up and went over to the hole in the wall. He wanted to walk by the pond, but something stopped him. He turned around and looked at his reflection.

The face looking back at him didn’t remind him of the Merlin he knew. He was pale. He was serious. He was missing an eye.

Merlin instinctively shot his hand up and touched his cheek, bellow the foreign black hole. The men in the pond did the same. _I have changed_ , Merlin wandered. _I am not a happy serving boy any more. I was Emrys, or at least I think so, but now I am not, not anymore. So who am I?_

Merlin nudged his magic. It responded more readily than ever before. It reached out and formed a black patch over the place where his precious blue eye used to be.

He still had to tell Morgana about the news. He turned away from his reflection and with confident spring in his step, he walked through the hole in the wall.

_Who am I? Let’s find out._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea how to write kissing. This is the best you are getting out of me.  
> And I finaly got to post that picture I have drawn for at least four months!!!
> 
> Thanks to Hot_Stuff_JK_731 for the long and detailed review, along with Drew1998, Apex_Calibre, october_nix, xEverlark4Lifex and all of you who comment. It is an amazing lifting of spirit in the corona time :).  
> Also special thanks to Aeriel Gardner for the vocabulary extending. I don't knoow how usefull it will be, but I won't forget "dexters" for a while.
> 
> (PS: I am not dying. I can thank people even when not on the death's bed. I am not Arthur Pendragon)


	16. Of Losses of Control, Brilliant Ideas and New Selves

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, I am back!  
> We have holiday here, so it is possible that I will be posting more often.  
> Also, I am finally learning about HTML and CSS! I am sure going to make that new knoledge useful...

“We can’t hurt Arthur.”

“What?!” Morgana shrieked out. ”What do you mean, we can’t harm Arthur? That worm deserves to die in hellfire! And his lovely queen with him!”

Merlin sighed weakly. Morgana may have forgiven him, but her grudge against Guinevire and the rest of her former friends only grew. After what they went through, he loved the priestess like sister, but that didn’t stop him from disliking her sky-high illogical hatred.

Though he couldn’t deny he expected exactly this reaction.

“Morgana, we already told you hundred times that Gwen had nothing to do with Merlin’s imprisonment. The only ones, who even just _know_ about it, are Arthur, Sarrum and the four –sorry Aithusa – five of us. Every one else thinks our dear Merlin is pushing up daisies.” Gwaine tried to placate her. He was still slightly weary of her and her aggressive outburst didn’t make it any better.

“He is a swine! Why don’t you see it? He deserves to suffer!” Morgana continued her hateful tirade. She was seething, if her magic wasn’t still weak from being restrained, it would probably lash out by now.

“Yes, Morgana, we know! But you can’t answer everything with violence!”

Mordred was desperately trying to calm her temper. Her transformation scared him – last time they met, she was still a sweet, brave and compassionate lady. Now, instead of mischief that lit up her eyes with happy little stars there was just a dark cloud of madness. _Is this Sarrum’s doing? Or was she already like that when she started her war against Camelot?_ He heard the tales, but he didn’t believe them. He believed in beautiful strong woman that saved him from the Devil. Where was that woman now?

“He betrayed us all! He had Merlin tortured! This is the one thing that can only be answered with violen-“

Merlin had enough. He was tired and everything was hurting: his body, his mind and especially his eardrums. He just wanted to go to sleep and never wake up. She was allowed to be angry, but this, _this_ was too much. He just wanted them _to_ **_shut up_**.

Suddenly he felt his magic shift. What was happening? Merlin concentrated on the pulsing glow inside him and recoiled with shock. It was wildly swirling in unusually dark mass. And he noticed something else. Was that… anger?

Was his magic feeling angry just now? And… protective? How on earth-

Than it suddenly heaved through him in powerful wave, so strong he only remembered two times such torrent tore through him. When he summoned the lightning to kill Nimueh and when he became Emrys.

Merlin was too weak to stop it. It snatched at his tongue and _spoke_.

**“Enough, Priestess.”**

The voice sounded like thunder resonating through a labyrinth of sharp rocksides. It sounded like a ship being shattered by stormed sea. It sounded like cracking of fire eating leagues of land with everything on it in one gulp. It sounded like anger of nature. It sounded like fury of magic. It sounded like Emrys’s voice would, should any mortal ear hear Him speak.

Meanwhile, Merlin was panicking. His consciousness was blurring and fading on the edges. He couldn’t control the tremors running up and down his spine or his weak gasping breaths. At the edge of his mind, he could feel a godly presence creep into his body. Young warlock started pleading with his magic to stop. He didn’t want the ruthless god to awake once more, he didn’t want more fresh blood on his already red-stained hands, he just wanted it to _stop!_

And suddenly, the dizziness was gone. The magic retreated back to the direction of his heart, soothing his skin and insides comfortingly on its way. It pulsed once gently …in apology?

“Merlin?” sounded a whisper from somewhere to his right. _Ah_. He wasn’t alone.

“S-sorry. I have no idea what just happened. Just… Let me finish, please.” Merlin said quietly. Only silence followed his words. So he let the news rang out. He spoke of the shattered destiny and of the new prophecy. The Old Religion was also mentioned.

When he finished, he took a look at the others. Morgana looked sheepish and slightly sad. Mordred and Gwaine were mostly relieved. Aithusa, in her sweet childish peacefulness, fell asleep somewhere in the middle of his speech.

“So if we try to take our rightful revenge, the Old Religion will punish us. We will have to wait for twenty years first.” Morgana summed it up, her face making grimace like she just ate a slice of lemon without chewing.

“Not necessarily.” smirked Merlin cryptically. _I am not some stupid servant any more. Let’s test, what this new me can really do._

“What? Mate, you just gave us a scary longish lecture about how under any super-terrifying circumstances we must not touch –“

“-Arthur. Yes. But you forgot it was not him that gave his men the order to torture us and the rest of the magic folk that came into his hands.”

“Sarrum…” Morgana whispered with wide eyes.

“He is not off limits. Nobody forbade us from destroying _him_. Actually, I can think of tons of people that would promise us their souls just to get rid of him.”

“But if we took him down – if we actually managed this crazy thing – what would happen to Amata? To her people?” said Mordred, confused.

Merlin lips pulled out into wolfish smile. He decided it quite suited his new self. _I am no longer a servant. I am whoever and whatever the hell I want._

_Time to pull out the ace._

“Tell me, Morgana. Didn’t you always want to be a queen? I think it is time for the Ancient Kingdom of Sion to rise out of the ashes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ** BONUS **   
>  _“Tell me, Morgana. Didn’t you always want to be a queen? I think it is time for the Ancient Kingdom of Sion to rise out of the ashes.”_
> 
> Their mouths fell open. 
> 
> But Merlin didn’t care right now. He was thinking back to the dark cell in the castle of Amata, to the pact he made himself about provoking the guards into torturing him instead of Morgana. To the game.
> 
> _I believe that the last scores were 3:2?_
> 
> _Well then._
> 
> _Merlin Emrys – 4, Sarrum – 2_


	17. Of Magic’s Quirks and Being a Gentleman

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for being so late!
> 
> Anyway, here it is! The New Chapter.

Merlin’s plan was simple – he knew all too well that simple plans were the ones that worked the best. His companions took to it like fish to water. Morgana’s knowledge of ruthless logic and strategy, Gwaine’s understanding of human character and Mordred’s memories of druidic legends about Amata and its magical history all worked together, smoothing and polishing rough and potentially unshiny parts of the whole idea, accomplishing a masterpiece. All Merlin had to do was to coordinate them. They made an amazing team.

So amazing they actually managed to be ready to start the first phase of the plan once the sun was risen in about five hours. Gwaine and Mordred were going to go back to the city and snoop around, analysing their potential standing. Who of the town people is the most respected? What are they willing to do to bring their kingdom back to light? How is Sarrum defended? What does the ordinary folk hate the most? Which ones of them aren’t reliable and which are? What do they think about magic?

After all, if you want to start a revolution, to use king’s own people against him, you need to know where to push and where to pull.

This phase could take from few days to few weeks, _months_ even. While Mordred and Gwaine were working, Merlin, Morgana and Aithusa were supposed to be healing, resting and getting their strength back. They couldn’t help anyway – even if they were perfectly healthy, they would probably be recognised.

But they counted with this. Hopefully, they won’t blow their plan up by doing something reckless too soon, because resting was going to bore them to death in no time.

And anyway, there was a lot they had to think about…

**ΞІ†‡ф‡†ІΞ**

Merlin was sitting on the grass-infested floor back in the room he woke up in. It was pleasantly silent here. The only thing he could hear was cracking of fire and hushed voices of his companions on the other side of the crumbled wall. The remains of the building they were using as their head quarters were ancient. Mordred identified them as ruins of a temple, dedicated to Triple Goddess. It was brought down along with the kingdom of Sion.

But that was not the matter Merlin’s mind was bending itself over so hardly. _What happened with my magic back there? Does it have something to do with Emrys? And how did Emrys happen anyway?_

Fireflies kept peacefully flying in circles.

**ΞІ†‡ф‡†ІΞ**

Morgana was staring into the fire. Next to her, Gwaine and Mordred were discussing last details of tomorrow’s actions. After the initial screaming match and Merlin throwing his crazy idea about taking over _a whole kingdom_ , she shockingly bonded with them both through planning and plotting. It nearly terrified her how well they worked together.

She wasn’t surprised that she got on well with Mordred. He was a druid like her and they met many times in past, even though long time ago. Mordred changed much since the last time Morgana saw him. He grew into a fine young man, apparently became a _camelotien_ knight and somehow beyond her imagination managed to get a hold of the _Rune of Egiram_ of all things. She wandered whose soul did his necklace host.

What really astonished her was that she enjoyed talking to _Gwaine_. Morgana didn’t know much about him – he was a flirtatious drunkard who became a knight of Camelot and therefore her enemy. Now, after some interaction, she saw a jokester, a man with love for freedom, capable of loyalty beyond reason (nearly as much as Merlin – and Merlin’s loyalty could reach sizes so big it became uncomfortable to be subjected to it). The thought of hating Gwaine was suddenly unimaginable to her. This rapid change of opinion scared her slightly.

**ΞІ†‡ф‡†ІΞ**

Merlin reached inside of himself. His magic was wrapped around his heart. He stroked his imaginary fingers over it. To his shock it started to gently vibrate and pulse. He snapped his mind’s hand away, but not before he felt a wave of content wash over him from the golden glowing bundle. The pulsing and vibrating didn’t stop and the shining mass lazily rippled.

Merlin’s imagination suddenly decided that it was perfect time for a frontal attack. It showed him a cat with golden fur emitting soft light, lying sprawled on a plushy red pillow, sleepily basking in warm sunbeams, dazedly purring when a generous hand gave it a head-rub.

Young warlock’s mouth fell open. His magic, the magic that summoned a storm that killed a High Priestess, magic that helped him command life and death, the power that woke up an ancient omnipotent god, had apparently a very developed personality.

It went into a furious uncontrolled state just because he was upset with his friends bickering. And then, just because it felt his panic, went from a vengeful god to a combination of ashamed child avoiding his eyes and an overprotective mother hen smoothing her hands up and down his body making sure he was one hundred percent alright.

And this personality apparently decided that the best way to spend free time was being a lazy cat.

_…What is going on?_

**ΞІ†‡ф‡†ІΞ**

Gwaine just finished talking over the last details of tomorrow with Mordred. He now had just a few hours left to sleep before the two former knights had to ride out. He went over to where they put saddle backs and pulled out his bedroll and blanket. When he turned around to look for a place that wouldn’t make him curse his back once he woke up, his eyes fell on the high priestess. She was still staring into the fire, brows furrowed, deep in thought. They only had three sleeping mats, expecting to rescue only Merlin. He looked over to Mordred. The druid knight was once again absorbed by that necklace of his, like every night. It didn’t look like he was going back to the real world anytime soon.

Gwaine looked back to Morgana. He was weary of her at first, especially when she started her madness-filled tirade on how Camelot should be violently killed, violently resurrected and violently killed again. But then… Once they changed topic to something other than Arthur, she completely changed. Gwaine had to unwillingly admit that he rather liked this other side of her. If she weren’t partially crazy witch, he would even consider her somebody he would like to have as a friend.

Maybe it wasn’t so bad. Merlin trusted her, even after being locked up with her for over month. And if Merlin trusted somebody, Gwaine should too (the drunk knight tried to ignore the small voice in his head that Merlin’s trust wasn’t always so well placed – the “oh so noble” bastard Pendragon proved that in the worst way possible).

And anyway, Morgana was injured and a woman. Gwaine’s mother brought him up to be always gentleman with woman, no matter if they were pretty barmaids, spoilt noble girls, or crazy priestesses.

“Hey, witchy-lady!” _Uuuuups, that wasn’t very gentlemanly._

When she snapped her head up and looked at him, he threw her the wrapped bedroll and the blanket. He slightly winced when they nearly fell into the dying fire.

“Time to get some beauty sleep!” He threw her a shiny smile, quickly turned around and walked to the other side of the opposite remains of stone wall.

There, he laid down, wrapped himself in his cloak and closed his eyes.

He was going to need all the sleep he could get.

**ΞІ†‡ф‡†ІΞ**

Merlin cautiously neared his magic once again.

_Uhm, hello?_

The magic rippled once again (cat swishing its tail? cat stretching? cat turning its head towards him?) and send out new wave of content and amusement.

**Hello to you too, little one.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...I really don't know what to do with Gwaine and Morgana. I am not capable of writing a romance, but it is kinda uncontrolably flailing somewhere in between. Lets say they are friends for now, no matter what my friend decides to write.
> 
> On the other side, I have big plans for Merlin's magic _*smirking emoji I have no chance to built out of interpuntion*_


	18. Of Magic, World and Their Unexpected Friendship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No explanation what-so-ever.  
> But Merlin doesn't mind.

**The Magic was moving.**

**It was playing the tag with the winds over the Darkling woods.**

**( _it was winning-the North wind was weighted down with storm clouds, they slowed him down down down-the first raindrop will fall on little girl’s forehead-her name is Lisa–born eight years ago, will be married in twelve and dead in forty one point nine-and she will beam a smile at the sky_ )**

**It was tumbling down the highest cliff of the White Mountains along with a sole loose rock.**

**( _it will land with a crush-the birds will fly away, scared scared scared-in million years there will be neither stone nor birds only magic magic magic_ ) **

**It was dancing with the flames in sleeping camp side in the forest of Balor.**

**( _the humans were sleeping, not knowing a fox was rummaging through their packs-humans will know in the morning-the fox will have full stomach first time in a month and the Magic will dance dance dance_ ).**

**The Magic was not moving.**

**It was the silence over the Perilous Lands.**

**( _waiting-patiently, impatiently-for something to move to laught to speak-waiting waiting_ ) **

**It was watching the fledglings readying for their fly.**

**( _anticipation-excitement-nervousness-it is ready to catch the smallest bird when his wings fail-the next time he falls there will be nobody to catch him_ )**

**It was sleeping, curled up with wolf cubs.**

**( _the oldest one is snoring_ )**

**( _why is it snoring?_ )**

**The Magic was.**

**( _a dog-a willow tree-a sword-a star-a dragonfly-a cat…………_**

**_….ancient…._ **

**_……..a magic_ ** **)**

**It heard the voice.**

**( _it heard many voices-people were laughing in The Rising Sun-a son was crying above his dead mother’s body-it never heard a voice that would ask it_)**

_Uhm, hello?_

**( _a man-_**

**_no never a man-_ **

**_a friend, a brother, Magic, Emrys._ **

**_not Emrys._ **

**_Morddin._ **

**_the friend_ ** **)**

**It ( _a child-a prisoner-a soldier_ ) jumped into the air, whooped and clapped its ( _their_ ) hands.**

**( _he is here-he speaks to us-what took him so long long long?_ )**

**( _he said uhm-what does uhm mean in human-his tone sounds funny_ )**

**( _he is our friend-we have a friend-our very first friend-happiness-happiness-HAPPY!)_**

**It ( _finally finally finally_ ) responded.**

**_Hello to you too, little one._ **

**ΞІ†‡ф‡†ІΞ**

Merlin nearly shrieked out loud when the voice responded to his half-hearted question. It was just an experiment, he really didn’t expect his magic to _answer_. Magic can talk. MAGiC can TalK. Well, he probably shouldn’t be so surprised. If magic can _feel_ , speaking is just one level above.

Its voice didn’t sound neither male nor female. Nor the voice that came out of his mouth when it told Morgana to shut up. It was gentle, echoing and shimmering at once, with a shadow of childish tilt. It sounded familiar – like a friend you haven’t seen in long time and missed them every day. And it was – in a way. It was Merlin’s magic, his oldest companion. Just hearing it speak awoke Merlin’s long lost happiness.

_Why were you silent for so long? Why did I never hear you?_

**There was a barrier between us. Emrys broke it. Send Him my thanks the next time he is awake. Looks like I didn’t manage to catch him this time.**

_This time? How did he wake up? Why was even he sleeping?_

**He was waiting for you since the beginning of time. You were taking long to be born, so he decided to take a nap. I mean, what else was he supposed to do? He doesn’t like playing with _me_ and the rest of the adults are either animals or idiots. **

_Oi, I am an adult too!_

Merlin felt disoriented in the current of new cryptic information and indignation was all his muddied brain was capable of.

Something resembling a snort came in response. Merlin translated it as pouty and sarcastic **_Yeah, sure_** and continued in trying to stop his head from spinning.

_Why would he wait for me? I am not that special._

**Of course you are. You are Morddin. You are Emrys’s second part, his little brother. And you are also my best friend. Or at least I hope so. You are, aren’t you?**

The last part sounded little panicky. Merlin dropped trying to sort his mind and quickly set to calm his magic. He felt like his heart might burst if it started to cry. Especially considering it was wrapped around said organ like an octopus.

_Yes, you are my best friend, if you want to. My former best friend was an ass so the post of the best friend is totally free. You can take it._

_And you are my magic, aren’t you? You were with me my whole life. I would have thought you would know my name after all this time._

**You are silly. Of course I know your name, it’s Morddin!**

_No...? I am fairly sure my name is Merlin. Or Emrys, though now that I think about it, that one isn’t exactly mine._

**I like Morddin better. And I’m sure Emmy agrees with me. We are older than birds, we can’t be name after one.**

_Emmy?_

**Emrys. Morddin. Emmy and Morddy.**

_Is it possible to talk you out of this?_

**No, Morddy.**

Merlin let out an exasperated (and secretly fond) sigh. Morddin. Not a bad name. It felt familiar in the same way his magic’s voice was.

It was amazing to talk to somebody so carefree. Even though it left more questions than answers. The Magic was happily purring around his heart. Which reminded him…

_Why are you acting like a cat?_

**Why not? I feel like a cat, so I am a cat. Aren’t you a cat when you feel like a cat?**

_No. What is it like?_

**You don’t know? You are missing out so much! Wait a moment…**

Before Merlin had time to ask, _what_ to wait for, he was swept under the current.

* * *

**Magic and its friend are a cat. They are lying on a grass ( _fresh-alive-green-the cat’s – their\- eyes are closed but they are magic and they see see see_), basking in afternoon sunlight ( _it is warm-sweet-it’s petting their fur-it’s nice_ ). Through cat’s sharp ears, they hear mouse running through the undergrowth ( _the cat –they- is not hungry, it is lazy-too happy to move to hunt to run_ ). It is sunny afternoon ( _they listen to cats thoughts-meow meow meow-it is happy and they are happy too_ ) and the cat’s world couldn’t be better. And they are the cat. **

* * *

_That was amazing!_

Said Merlin, once he became a human once more.

**It is! And you haven’t even been a whale yet! Or a dove, or a shrubbery, or a rock, or a river, or a…**

**Well, I will show you. But now, I feel like a cat. And do you know what that means?**

_No?_

**Start scrubbing behind my ears. I finally found someone who could do it, I am not letting this opportunity pass. And you are my best friend, so you can’t say no. Go on. I am waiting.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The name Morddin is from [here](https://dmnes.wordpress.com/2016/04/05/arthurian-names-merlinmyrddin/).  
> Looking foreward to comments.


	19. Of Snakes, Trees, Bones and Tales from Before the Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, I am back.  
> Sorry it took so long.  
> I was stuck (again).  
> But if it is any consolation, this chapter is twice as long as I normaly write.  
> And it contains some real explenation :)

Gwaine woke up. The sun was already up and about and it was this way for at least three hours earlier than he would have liked. He cringed and got out of his warm bedroll. _Into the breach_. He walked around their camp, packing all provisions they would need. He kicked Mordred to wake up ( _gently_ ), he scrubbed Aithusa behind ear ( _Sir Gwaine the Strength did **not** startle when the mass of white scales started loudly purring and cooing_). He passed by sleeping Morgana and placed a sweat looking apple ( _he was **not** a mother hen and this was most definitely **not** the last apple they had. He and Mordred were going to buy new ones anyway…_). He walked past the half non-existent wall and towards Merlin.

When they saved Merlin from the Amatien castle (not that he needed much help at the end), Gwaine was not sure what to expect from his friend. They all saw the terrific scars that littered young warlock’s body. The whip-marks, the cuts, the burns… All of them. Gwaine had watched them uncover with dread, as Mordred tended to them to the best of his ability. Merlin must have gone through horrors only few could imagine and Gwaine, even as a warrior, was not one of those people. He remembered how, watching Merlin’s still and bloody body, he wandered how deep those wounds were. Deep enough to scratch a soul? Deep enough to tear through heart? Because no matter how battered Merlin’s body was, his core must have been in much worse state. A core they couldn’t reach.

Gwaine feared what became of his friend. When Merlin walked in last night, wearing patch over one eye and steel in the other, he didn’t see the friendly goofy servant. He saw a man, who was beaten to the ground and got up once again, with voice of vengeance in his mouth and nothing to loose. Merlin was teared into pieces and then stitched back together by a seamstress, who didn’t know which part belonged where. All of him waiting to crumble the moment his goal was achieved, for it was the only thing keeping him together. And the goal _will_ be achieved – the new Merlin was not somebody you could stand in way for long.

Gwaine lifted up the curtain of vines. Merlin was lying on the other side of the little pond, curled up with his knees close to his chest. He was smiling in his sleep.

Maybe not everything was lost. Gwaine watched him fondly for another moment, before placing a pear near Merlin’s head and turning around.

He had to go. The tavern (and the useful gossip of course) were waiting for him.

**ΞІ†‡ф‡†ІΞ**

Merlin was woken up by bird‘s chirping. He smiled and opened his eyes. Or at least tried to. Half of vision was pitch black, no matter how much he tried. His hand flew up to his face – and sudden pain ran through his arm.

_Oh, no_. He squeezed his eyes – _eye_ – once again and suddenly there was not enough air. He was choking on the lack of it ( _he was choking on water, amatien soldiers were pushing his head under the surface, it was too cold it was toO HOT…_ )

In his heart, magic pulsed in alarm and unravelled. Like a snake, it wrapped itself around one of his ribs and crawled, spiralling around it, over his collarbone towards the shoulder blade.

* * *

**Morddin’s bones were branches of an ancient oak.**

**His bark was tired,**

**( _it went through so much_**

**_– cells dividing into two, cells dying, bones growing, bones hurting, hits, fractures, bones breaking\- _ **

**_it had so much left to go_ **

**_-bones repairing, bones hurting, cells dividing into two, cells dying, all of it turning into ash-_ ** **)**

**his wood was screaming in wind.**

**( _bones in left forearm – broken._**

**_bones in left upper arm – broken._ **

**_bones in heart (on the left, but always on the right side) – broken.)_ **

****

**_(Magic forgotten to keep in numbing their pain, it was sleeping it was purring, it was being petted, it was a happy cat, so happy it forgotten forgotten forgotten!)_ **

**_(Magic was sorry)_ **

**_(was sorry)_ **

**_(sorry)_ **

**Magic –a snake, so sorry snake- made its nest near the tree crown.**

**It should feel like comforting hand on the back.**

* * *

Where it went, a calming warmth and numbness spread.

Merlin’s breathing returned to normal and bad memories dived back into the unreachable depths of his mind. The pain faded away.

_Thanks for that. And good morning_.

**Nothing to thank for, little Morddin. And the best morning to you.**

Merlin smiled fondly and carefully got up. When no stabbing pain came, he slowly made his way towards the curtain of vines. After not even one step, his sleepy legs tripped over something. When he bent down, to examine the offending object, he found himself looking on a fresh pear. His smile grew slightly bigger as he snatched it from the ground and bitten into it as he walked.

Behind the crumbled wall he found a pile made of the provisions Gwaine and Mordred left for him and Morgana to use. He couldn’t see neither the priestess nor the dragon-girl anywhere, but he didn’t let himself be bothered by it. He could hear Morgana’s laughter and Aithusa’s chirping from the other side of the ruin and Mordred swore he put up some wards. They were safe. Nobody was going to hurt them here ( _You sure?_ asked voice in Merlin’s head. He kicked it back into the dark corner it came from).

He walked over to the place their camp fire was yesterday. Merlin felt hungry, one pear was far from enough to satisfy his healing body. He stretched out his hand and intoned the spell:

“ _Forbaene_ ”

Or at least he tried. Nothing happened.

“ _Forbaene_ ”

**Stop poking into me with that word.**

Came from his magic in slightly annoyed tone. It left from its place on his shoulder blade and crawled up around his spine, making itself at home on his head, like a very snaky-warm-glowing gold hat.

_Why is nothing happening? Where is the fire?_

Merlin was starting to panic.

**Nowhere. If you want to make it into existence, get yourself firewood and a flint.**

_But I said the spell. Why aren’t you making the fire?_

**I am your best friend, not your servant. I am not doing things you can do perfectly well by yourself. But if you really need help, I will lighten the weight of the wood once you gather some.**

Merlin was falling into the despair. ( _No, please, don’t take this away from me!)_

_Are you going to stop helping me just because I can hear you complain now? Please I need my magi… my power. I am nobody without it. Without it, I could as well die._

**Nonsense! You are our Morddin. I and Emrys are not letting you die even if you wanted to. You are our best friend and little brother!**

“And when will you explain that?!” Merlin said exasperatedly. He violently flinched when he noticed he said it out loud. His whole world was tilting and he feared that if the inclination is too great, he will fall off into the dark abyss of madness. His balance was fragile ever since Pendragon’s betrayal and his magic was giving him pushes from random directions.

**Calm down, little Morddin, everything is alright, I swear. Everything is perfectly alright, okay? How about you go for the wood and I will start explaining?**

Merlin noticed his hands were trembling. With a deep breath, he balled them into steady fists and started walking towards the trees.

**So at the total beginning, there was only the three of us – me, Magic the Power. Emrys, Magic the God. And you, Morddin, Magic the Life. You and I are best friends, Emrys is annoying older brother, because he always says I am a kiddo and too childish to understand, while he is a clever and mature adult. I am not a stupid kiddo, am I, Mordy?**

Merlin noncommittally grunted under his breath and picking up a peace of branch. To be honest, he thought his magic had rather… childish way of thinking. But he didn’t mind. It was a nice change.

**You are basically Emrys’s little brother, here really likes you and he made it his solemn duty to stalk you around, which made him even more annoying.**

**So we were like this for some time, before the others started turning up. The Triple Goddess, who by the way had this “something” for Emrys - do you understand it? I don’t. It is probably adult thing. Than Destiny appeared and –**

_How? Where did they come from?_

**Who cares? Universe is not supposed to make sense, magic especially. Anyway, Destiny swooped down, it gave us a speech how we have to create this and that and I thought “sure, it will be fun”. So I convinced the rest of us and we started planning. Well, its not like we could go against Destiny’s wishes anyway, I just convinced all of you to do its will properly. Destiny has that power over everything.**

**We made plans of absolutely amazing world and once we were sure about everything, we started building. To put it all together, we all had to give in some of our power. Unfortunately, we didn’t guess just how much. I basically got enslaved to keep all the nature rules running. But don’t worry, I don’t mind, its fun to do.**

**You on the other side, had to power all the living beings, from plants to animals to humans. You are the magic of their Life-force. And it needed so much power that it shut your consciousness down. Which made me sad and Emrys pissed off. But Destiny promised, that once there is enough excessing Life-force expelled, like after a genocide of magic users, she will send it to you and you will be reborn as one of the humans. While being a human, you will get used to sharing so much power and once you die, you will back with us being your cheeky moody self.**

**Well, Emmy was still furious, because he really likes you and because you are his favourite little brother, but he couldn’t do anything about it, so he kept silent. His magic is powering the sorcerers, magical creatures, magical artefacts and some of the high-magic places, so they can channel something. Nothing that needed him conscious, so he decided, that he might as well go to sleep to shorten the time he will have to wait for you.**

**So that’s it. Triple Goddess are basically destiny’s hand in the world. They push and pull people and creatures to places where Destiny wants them.**

Merlin exhaled. He had about an armful of firewood and last five minutes of explanations he was just standing and staring nowhere.

_I am sorry, but I don’t believe you. Me? Me, a farm-boy from Ealdor, a reborn God? That’s ridiculous. You thought it up._

_I mean, in your tale, Morddin was supposed to die before meeting the lot of you. But I hear you right now while being pretty much alive._

**Yeah, Destiny made a mistake. Something along the way went wrong and the Once and Future King turned to the wrong side. Than you went through the hell, which you definitely did not deserve in any way, which woke up Emrys, pissing him off on Destiny even more. Giving us this connection is a by-product. Maybe the others could connect with you too, once it all settles down a bit. You will certainly have peace from Destiny.**

_Alright, Alright. If this was all true, I would have been a super-powerful God, yeah? Than why am I completely powerless unless you or Emrys help me?_

**You are still not ready. The hell was enough to establish a connection, but the rest is different matter. Even if your body could handle it, you would have had to find a way the way to connect with it. And even though the power is part of you, it can’t handle being in human shelf in greater amount than is needed to keep it alive.**

_But..._

**Oh, just roll along with it. You will get used to it in no time. And if not, Emmy and I will make you.**

Merlin gave up. He nodded and bent down to pick up last branch.

**Now, let’s go and make that fire. I will make cool flaming shapes, promise!**

When Merlin failed to move, Magic gave a sight and crawled from his head, around his ribs, dividing into two, both glowing snakes continuing down, ending wrapped around each of his ankles.

**Aaaaaand left!**

Merlin’s left leg moved on its own accord, taking a step towards their camp-side.

**Aaaand right!**

Merlin’s right leg followed its companion, bringing him another step closer.

**And left!**

**And right!**

And so it continued. Merlin took the advice and rolled along with the madness. The only sign of his rebelism were the accusing stares he was sending towards his traitorous limbs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what do you think?   
> If any of you is getting lost in the story, tell me where - I know it is not really put together, and I change the curse of the story every time I write a new chapter.  
> I really appreciate comments (and kudos of course). They are both great motivation and it also makes me sure you are not all dead on the other side of the screen. So if you have any thoughts or positive reviews (or sensibly negative), share.
> 
> Also, I have to write my semester esay for Czech language soon and my choosen topic is "Sir Mordred and his evolution during history of literature":) Do you know any good proffesional books or documentaries dedicated to the topic? Or even a youtube video, anything to make some order out of it? Or really anything useful? In English, or in Czech, if any of you know it.
> 
> Also also...  
> Merry Advent!!!
> 
> I hope I didn't forget anything, see you in the next chapter!


	20. Of Morgana, the High Priestess of the Old Religion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **So, this is the a last chapter of the Part one**  
>  It is extremely short - sorry -.   
> The idea to start a new part is old just about thirty minutes, but I already have a title and I am really proud f it, so there is no coming back.  
>  **Also, considering I have officially ended part one, I will start editing (during tomorow, meaning 27 th November) - I will try to get rid of as much of gramatical mistakes as I can, if anything sits weirdly I will try to kick it into some shape...  
>  There will be no changes in the plot, just little change in scene here and there, additional information here and there...  
> And if I manage it, some easy pictures (meaning "not a portrait that takes four hours and tun of luck", meaning sketch in style I am working on)**  
> Is is weird? It is basicaly just to ease my conscience, get a feeling of well done work and to orientate in what the ************** did I write, because I didn't read most of the chapters since I wrote them.

Morgana was laughing. Just a month ago, she was convinced she will never hear such noise again, outside of its twisted dark form, coming from mouth of her captors while she burned on stake. But now… She giggled again, just to enjoy the sound. It was bit rough around the edges, weeks of screaming, thirst and silence mutilated her once sweet voice. But it rang strong and true between the trees. Through sun the lit air. Free.

The reason for her good mood was a certain young dragon. Morgana and Aithusa woke up about hour ago, just to see the backs of the former knights leaving the campsite towards Amata. They have eaten something for breakfast and decided to look around the ruins they were staying at. Just around corner, they nearly fell into shallow stream, which obviously run around the former temple, hugging its outer walls. The young dragon immediately attempted to catch the silver-coloured fish that swam in it. Aithusa failed spectacularly - hitting her snout on the rocky bottom and splashing all around her in drunken-looking stumbling. Then she collided with the confused high priestess and sent them both sprawling on the now wet grass.

It _was_ funny. Just a little.

The young dragon girl whined and put her head in priestess’s lap. Morgana started absent-mindly stroke her head.

Morgana wandered between her thoughts. The shock from Merlin’s absurd suggestion yeasterday finally wore off and she found herself thinking of the future. Was she really going to be a queen? Will their plan work?

Ever since finding out she had magic, she wanted to be a queen. To rule a land and to be free to shape it in way she wanted it – safe. For the broken, for the poor, for the hunted. For people like her – the magic users. And later, she wanted throne, because it belonged to her - as the first born, as the cleverer of tyrants children, as the one, who would bring justice.

She was a lady, used to luxury and sweet words. A noble. A Royalty.

She tried to take the crown by force as a lady. She didn’t succeed. She wasn’t ready.

She was a witch. Banished from her home, from her life, forced to fend off for herself. She lived due to hard work and will to survive and to continue in her efforts. A peasant. A criminal. A leader.

She tried to take the crown by force as a witch. She didn’t succeed. And now that she thought about it, maybe she wasn’t ready back then either.

She was a girl, reaching adulthood just a few years ago. Scared in the darkness when the lights gone out. Her ability to choose, such a common trait among humans, was taken away. She lived in pain, hanging on threads. A prisoner. A victim. An animal.

She survived as a girl.

She was a woman now. The lady, the witch and the girl were her past. She was a noble, a royalty, a peasant, a criminal, a victim. She was strong.

It was time to reach for the crown once more.

In different place.

In different time.

In different way.

And maybe, maybe she was ready now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **REPEAT  
>  Considering I have officially ended part one, I will start editing (during tomorow, meaning 27 th November) - I will try to get rid of as much of gramatical mistakes as I can, if anything sits weirdly I will try to kick it into some shape...  
> There will be no changes in the plot, just little change in scene here and there, additional information here and there...  
> And if I manage it, some easy pictures (meaning "not a portrait that takes four hours and tun of luck", meaning sketch in style I am working on)**  
> Is is weird? It is basicaly just to ease my conscience, get a feeling of well done work and to orientate in what the ************** did I write, because I didn't read most of the chapters since I wrote them. 
> 
> I appreciate all the kudos and comments, they help me with writing - as a motivation, and I sometimes take inspiration in what you write back. So thank you all!!! If there is anything (sensible) about the fic you wish to share, I am here.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for eventual Grammar mistakes.  
> I can´t both think and write grammaticaly correctly.  
> It´s imposible.  
> Also, thank you for all the Kudos, Subscribes and especially Comments.  
> Sometimes it is exactly the one thing that pushes me to write another chapter.


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